Broken Antler Fen amarthan

Title translation: fated

Sun struck like fire, hot and wicked against the dark russet coat of the lone stag. The bleached points of his crown of antlers reared threateningly upward and the frame of the prince moved over the rise in the terrain to look down upon a vast expanse of greenery and lush summer stems. It struck him as a type of paradise.
 
A kingdom for the taking.
 
Rohan moved down the slop of the hill and into the fen where he paused with flared nostrils to drink in the scent of his surroundings. The first and most alarming scent was that of passing predators. Rohan was no stranger to the sharp tang of the wolf. His ears swiveled before he bent his head to pluck at the green grass and earthy shrubs.