He walked on for hours until he neared a colossal rise of gigantic trees with barks red as blood. He walked into the eerie forest with eyes widened from their sockets and pale as the moon. The winds seemed to whisper less in the clave of massive Wytchwood, and his peering eyes glinted at the dark embrace of the forest, searching for that little movement that would send him on his heels.
THE SWORD OF WINTER
Fantasy · Dean_Sahara
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