Timestamp: Winter 6, 512 AV The trees had long been barren, their bark splintering from the cold, leaving little shelter for the animals to hide. Even so, the creatures seemed to elude the huntress no matter how many hours she spent following their fading trails. A thin sheet of frost blanketed the ground, crawling over the first fallen pine needles, and the hard packed earth. They crunched beneath the huntress whenever she moved, although she scarcely shifted as she sat nestled against the underbelly of an old oak. Its diamond patterned bark sinking against her spine as she pushed herself between raised roots. Slithering across the surface of the world as her muddied irises danced over tarnished silver. A shade faded to grey, even when touched by the soft rays of the sun. A pale gold, which caused the blood that lined it to appear all the more brown, and the metal itself, like slate whose chips of adorning mica had been flecked away. The dark wire hilt rested against her palm. An old strip of cloth in the right. Her fingers pinched the frayed cotton around the blade. Drawing it from hilt to point, over and over again, as though such a thing could cleanse it. The huntress smiled uneasily to herself as her companions slept, and she alone watched over the camp. The fading embers of a fire, buried beneath ashen wood a few paces away from where she sat. Her eyes only rising to meet it as a breeze swept idly through, tousling the chestnut colored mane she had worked so dutifully to tuck into the hood of her dark cloak. And as she gazed, her ears prickled as her color continued to drain from her hands, and her nose reddened. She could hear something rustling in the underbrush. A crackling against drying leaves, signifying movement within the forest after all. Unless it was just the wind again. |