Quoth the Raven
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- Parts 2
Byron didn't like the dark, and he especially didn't like the forest. On the night of the new moon, he made an exception. He buried his fear underneath the ashes beneath his feet as he charged past the skeletons of burnt trees.
The girl laid under the only unburnt tree. As he approached, stories of flesh-eaters entered his mind, and the terrifying image of the tree creatures tearing apart a fox churned his stomach. Still he walked towards her. The darkness caused the girl's raven hair to look like a pillow made of oil, and her pale skin had never seen abuse or battle. Her dark brown eyes flickered open, looking past Byron's own toffee colored globes, and softer than a mouse, she whispered,
"Nevermore."
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