Leaves crunched underfoot. The capacious moon illuminated the canopy above. Stars shone like fragment glass shattered into a million pieces, as the subsided forest lay sequestered from humanity. Twigs snapped in agitation from unknown pressure. That something ran. It ran recklessly for miles. Not once did it stop to take in the panorama that was painted on the canvas around. "it" was a girl. Age was undeterminable. Agility was evidential. She was not normal. Conscious of her surroundings, she abruptly stopped. Heightened senses captured her sanity. She was being chased.
How dare I not say! These times were ones of apocalypse and vulnerability. It had been 3 years since the government was overthrown by The Riders or Tames as the "others" liked to label them. The riders were former terrorists threatening the once government. However, they soon found the authorities weakness, pouncing upon the power displaced. The "others" are ones that escaped their grasp. These are the wilds. They hunted, travelled and fought. Though little in numbers, they were not little in attitude and strength. The majority, those once of the armies, some, rebellious teenagers who desired freedom. Just like Eris.
Eris was a young girl, about the age of 17. She once lived in a small village, far from where she dwells now. After the revolution, she sought asylum in the forest, learning from acquaintances how to hunt, fish, make clothes and craft weapons. Now, she was a feisty young woman who was a jack of her trade. A chief example of a true Wild. Adaptation took place, evolving her senses and form, making her great for running long distances and surviving in the flora.
However, at this moment in time, she seemed to find herself in a predicament. Someone, or something, was following her.
~ Eris ~
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Descriptive boldness
Poetryhere's where the question 'is she ok?' comes into play. see here a little collection of all the descriptions and mini-stories i write in my free time as well as in school. enjoyyyyy. Eris xx
