As the traveller entered, the leafless branches seemed to close in on him, trapping him in the dark mass of clouds and trees that was the forest, cutting off the path home. The plaintive howl of the wind seemed to be calling out his name, wailing as it glided through the trees like a restless spectre. Cold gusts of wind blew through his threadbare tunic, numbing his arms and hands, making the leather pack he carried seem far heavier as it gripped into his shoulders. Many a wanderer had come back from the forest as a skull impaled upon a wooden stake, a warning never to return. To enter the forest was to sign an irrevocable contract with Death in it's most hideous form. Needless to say, William was either oblivious to this information or thought himself invincible. The more he walked, the more the trees obscured the darkening sky and the more the ballet of the shadows danced across the ground, continuously escaping the path his feet crushed in the dull, lifeless grass. Not that he could ever catch them anyways. The shadows were always evading him, tailing him and then scattering.
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Shadows in the woods
FantasyNo one has ever survived being in the woods for more than a single day, but will a traveller finally be able to cross it unscathed?
