Deepwood Weald are you still there inside my chest?

Something about the way the female murmured was enough to send a tremor along Marruz's spine. She was beautiful, but in a syblline, inestimable way. He glanced down at his paws, seperated quite a length from his snout to the earth.

When he moved, it was slow and wary; pulling long limbs stiff as stilts beneath him. He was tall and that was the only blessing he had been given, for it cast the illusion that he was also large. And, as though from a cinematic horror, Marruz followed the dark Queen with the crow.