Ravensblood Forest just don't know if i can do it all again, she said it’s true

a crackle of leaves underfoot — astara stiffened, gaze lifting through the shade. what parted from under those hanging tree limbs could only be called a leviathan; hale and white and bearing an obscene scar that left him devoid of one eye. 


astara’s fur rifled. she studied the unnatural, gaping hole where face ought to be. like staring into a void that challenges perception..

 it left her skin crawling.

then she flicked her tail indifferently, turned neatly on her thin hocks, and wordlessly padded down the moss carpeted slope. an ear was turned back to see if the cyclopian ghost followed, but that was all.