Ravensblood Forest Caught in a storm

It seemed as if the cinereal beast was partial to forests, or at the very least, comfortable within their dark depths. Anselm had lingered within the thickening copse for hours - all the while trailing westward, in the direction of a lonely mountain. It cut a toothy silhouette through the early evening light. Perhaps his luck would be better upon the slopes, as opposed to this slumbering obscurity.

So he headed towards the butte which was in view - albeit barely - through the thinning tree line. By the time he made it to the stony range and up along a thin palisade of soil-ridden granite, the peak was hidden from view. But he was not alone - a fact which came upon him suddenly, as a voice rose through the gloom.

Anselm raised his head, but did not move to investigate - choosing instead to remain stoic upon the incline.