I took a moment to cast my gaze around, to take in my surroundings. The air was dead. No birds sung in the upper reaches of the trees. No deer hung about, watching just out of sight. The trunks of the twisted trees were charred and broken, the few branches that were left making invisible lines against the empty night sky. Ash hung on the mournful wind, weaving in and out of my sight like phantom children at play. I shivered, then continued on. I know this place. It's where the summer trees glisten with dew as the morning sun rises, small rodents scurrying in the grass. It's where the leaves fall in a colorful assortment of warm reds and yellows. It's the place where a blanket of snow preserves the woods, preparing for a new season of beginnings. There was a town, too. I can't remember much about it. There was the warm glow of candlelight coming through the windows, the doors opening and closing as people got ready for bed. I think it's in this direction. I have to know. I set off once again, in search of answers to the hole in this place's history. After a few more hours with my thoughts as my only companion, I came upon a town. The town. Ruined, caught in its last violent struggles. It was as if the very woods had barreled in, roots and vines thrashing. The windows were empty and hollow, the doors bolted shut, never to be opened again. My feet made a muffled thumping noise against the flagstones of the street. Shadows lurked in every corner, watching me warily. Dead trees had found a temporary sanctuary, it seems, before they had been reduced to jagged stumps, their roots still clinging to the low-lying buildings. ...vines and roots... up the buildings... why? I stepped into the center, near the crumbled remains around the hole that must've been the well. ...anger, sorrow, no- no- An image flashed in my eyes. A red cloaked figure, with a spear-like thing in its hand, standing on the line between forest and town. Tall, proud, shaking with rage. ...broken promise... I looked down at my own cloak. Red, tattered. Stained with streaks of mud. There was a couple of sticks stuck to it, white with ash. A symbol of a long-disbanded organization. One that was founded here. ...burning... I saw it, again. The figure leaping forward, the forest practically surging behind. Trees and bushes and roots and wind and- The screams. Oh, the screams. They didn't deserve this. ----- That was dark. Whoops. I had a bit of fun with the imagery lol Theories are appreciated
