How many days had the king been tracking Ciri on his own now? The Hunt’s leaders had separated, seeking to carve out more ground in hopes they would catch the ashen haired woman off guard. Solitude had never been a problem the likes of Eredin, his skills of survival and confidence had grown over many centuries of war and conflict. No, it was the constant disappointment of believing his search to be over only to realize his trail had grown cold.
His steed walked silently, it’s large mass covered in armour hardly hindering his advances, so well had she been trained. It wasn't until what seemed like an average night the old mare began to buck a scream loudly. Gripping his blade, Eredin prepared himself for the coming of some hideous beast, but there was no hellish roars, no breaking of tree branches in this wilderness. The moon shined ever so brightly, even here in the wolf infested woods, it’s light revealing a single figure, a small man of all things.
Was this some trick, some perversion of nature to convince the king to drop his guard? Had it been any other day he would have simply ran the poor fool down and interrogated him, but there was something off about this whole situation. It made the armoured hunter uneasy.
“ This horse was beaten and placed in harm’s way just enough
to where nothing would frighten it. If you value your life you will
explain yourself, varh'he! SPEAK! I COMMAND IT!”
FROM THE FOREST, NOISOME THINGS sprout countless hands from a shifting mass like mud. beyond mortal perception, they make themselves known only through subtle agencies —— heavy shades & phantom shivers. they dwelled here before the conjunction, before lesser beasts lapped from their breasts. now, they sleep with open maws. the mirror tends to them, kindling their appetites with honeyed gestures & ancient instincts. there will come a time for them to rise in a grand display of otherworldly beauty. there will come a time when all that is familiar will unravel before the divine. chaos blooms for another era.
when the commander speaks, he interrupts a kinship that stretches past reality itself. his arrogance is nearly enough to coerce a laugh.
❛ my, you look like quite the important fellow. ❜
gaunter manifests in a humble state, boots muddied & worn. he rests his spine upon a crooked oak before pressing forward, approaching the menacing figure without a whiff of fear. brow raise with some boyish innocence, he looks as if to ask for permission. he, however, waits for no response. with his palm steady, he calmly presses the cladden snout of the mare. a moment of understanding passes between the creatures until it falls into content silence.
❛ i've no notion of what could have spooked her. ❜
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
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