King Elk Forest youngest of three

spirits writhe in the frostladden forest, slithering along the trees, nipping at his heels like hungry hellhounds. the dreadfather keeps a keen eye on him even here, even far from his father. the purpose of taking his eye so long ago: an eye for an eye.

footfalls draw nyktos out of his reverie, half expecting to find his father having shadowed him. lift of chin, an appraisal of jack-o-lantern gaze. a soft inhale, trying to decipher the scent. unfamiliar.

hail stranger.