There must have been some kind of hollow nearby - some place where smaller creatures roosted, bloated from the many days leading up to winter's chill, but no matter where Anselm searched he could not find it. The scent of otherness was vague in some places, intense in others, and varied even as he searched. There one moment, a ghost the next.
He gave pause to his scouring and breathed a gruff sigh, in time to lift his head and see an approaching shadow. Or something like a shadow; for only the tip was dark, and the rest a silver waif. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, of the unfamiliar terrain, and next... Maybe a true specter, having lost it's head.
But he was no fool. Anselm was not swayed by superstition to the extent of his forebears, and thus he was unafraid, even as the specter took true form. The closer it got, the easier it was to discern. She was no ghost - but decidedly thin, sharp, and most importantly feral in her mannerisms. The strange woman paused and began to clean a spot of gore from her face, and this lent Anselm enough time to glean some knowledge from her.
Not as much as he may have liked, granted, but enough.
"Your blood, or a friend's?" He rumbled as pleasantly as his gruff voice could, although the sound fell stale within the wildwood.
He gave pause to his scouring and breathed a gruff sigh, in time to lift his head and see an approaching shadow. Or something like a shadow; for only the tip was dark, and the rest a silver waif. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, of the unfamiliar terrain, and next... Maybe a true specter, having lost it's head.
But he was no fool. Anselm was not swayed by superstition to the extent of his forebears, and thus he was unafraid, even as the specter took true form. The closer it got, the easier it was to discern. She was no ghost - but decidedly thin, sharp, and most importantly feral in her mannerisms. The strange woman paused and began to clean a spot of gore from her face, and this lent Anselm enough time to glean some knowledge from her.
Not as much as he may have liked, granted, but enough.
"Your blood, or a friend's?" He rumbled as pleasantly as his gruff voice could, although the sound fell stale within the wildwood.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Messages In This Thread
hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 09, 2015, 09:02 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Caiaphas - February 09, 2015, 09:09 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 09, 2015, 09:49 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 09, 2015, 10:05 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Caiaphas - February 09, 2015, 10:18 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 09, 2015, 10:30 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 09, 2015, 10:53 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Caiaphas - February 10, 2015, 02:43 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 10, 2015, 08:33 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 10, 2015, 08:52 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 10, 2015, 09:10 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 10, 2015, 09:16 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 10, 2015, 09:55 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 10, 2015, 10:32 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 10, 2015, 10:52 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by JB4 - February 10, 2015, 11:00 PM
RE: hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler - by Bartok - February 10, 2015, 11:06 PM