PEREGRINE

the woodland outstretched into a boundless sea, a gnarled maze of lofty groves whose distorted branches curled like the fingers of forgotten deities. the dense awning above allowed only slivers of light to penetrate through, casting fleeting shadows that flitted and danced across the ragged forestry floor. the ambiance was stagnant, solemn with the scent of moist earth and decomposing leaflets, a pungent fragrance that clung to the skin.

each tread taken was quelled by the soft, wet moss beneath, yet the stillness was not one of peace. it was the unsettling stillness before a storm--unnatural, airless as if the groves themselves held their breath.

every breath the woodland took was grave, as if each gust of breeze cruised with reluctance, rumouring secrets through the overgrown underbrush. the only sounds that skewered the sober quiet were the faraway yowls of unseen creatures--an owl hooting mournfully, the rustle of branches inclining under some unseen weight, the splitting of branchlets under the feet of something that was always just out of the picture. the sounds, though undefined, held an importance of uncertainty, as though the woodland was alive in a way that could never truly be comprehended, continuously swerving and observing.

yet every shadow harboured the guarantee of something unfamiliar, something ancient. the woodland was alive, and it was not necessarily kind.

¤

[all the drawings on the page are mine!]