A figure appeared in the twilight, sliding through the forest like a shadow cat. Cloaked in darkness and wrapped in mist, the figure walked silently.
A crack echoed through the stillness of the forest. The figure froze, peering through the trees suspiciously. The figure waited, not daring to move. A minute passed, then another, and the figure relaxed ever so slightly. The figure shifted.
The figure moved faster now, almost rushing, gliding past trees and bushes, pausing here and there to peer into the dusk, as if looking for something. Finally, at a large oak, the figure stopped. Looked around warily, making sure there would be no witnesses. The figure knelt, pulled a glowing stone from the folds of its cloak, looked around once more, and pressed the stone into the tree. The stone disappeared slowly, as if the tree was soft as mud. The light of the stone grew fainter, and then was gone, swallowed up by the bark of the tree.
The figure stood, its cloak swirling around it, and hurried away into the growing darkness of the forest.
<end of prologue>
YOU ARE READING
Water Cloaked
FantasyThere is a great darkness rising. Nature is dying. We must save the earth from itself.
