a light from the shadows will spring; crevan

[Merida]

Merida

from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken

She flits and flutters, a graceful and light creature leaping and bounding through the tall, great trees.

As she draws deeper into the forest on slender, brown-black paws, Merida realizes she has never been here before. The grand, autumnal trees tower over her – giant and foreboding in their length – unsettled by their fire-like glow as they stretch into the sky has turned a blood-red. It is nearly dusk when she arrives on the borders, though darkness has already coated the area; the thickness of the foliage above her keeps most of the final rays of sunlight from touching the ground. With the sun’s finishing light, the world around her bathes in an eerie orange glow, her auburn coat dipped in honey. She feels tiny and small as she becomes shrouded by the silence of the tall, stagnant trees. She stops, trying to quiet the rapid rise and fall of her ribcage from her dash through the forest. She feels like she’s too loud, like she is interfering on the trees and their very growth. 

Broad, black-tipped ears flick as the she awaits the sounds of crickets as well as other nocturnal creatures that would begin to fill the silent woods. She merely listens, soaking in the quiet and unknown atmosphere with the still-new senses of a fox. 

It is so deadly quiet.

It is so very different than anything she had ever witnessed. 

The silence puts her on edge now, the fur on her neck bristling uneasily. No longer is she merely traveling through Beqanna; the tiny fox has intruded on a land that wreaks of darkness and death, of decay and shadows. She snorts, her tiny black nose lifting upwards as she tries to place the scent that she had originally followed, a soft and quiet whimper of frustration vocalizing in her throat as she crouches slightly on her delicate legs, her bushy and white-tipped tail flicking wildly behind her in agitation. 

The return of her daughter had left the flame-eyed woman occupied for the past few moons, keeping her from knowing the current situation that has befallen Sylva, or the fact that the residents here had just visited her home, Loess, in search of Heda. However, the fox-girl had not forgotten the large wolf she had met in the forest, with his fire tricks and unusual way of making her feel ‘at home’ with her new shifter-abilities.

But here, within the growing darkness of nightfall and with the tall, daunting trees towering over her, she feels as though she’s made a mistake – that seeking him out and following his scent here was perhaps a foolish idea. 

The ever billowing silence makes her heart race, her ears falling flat against her crimson head and her black lips peeling away from her sharp, tiny teeth in response.

@[Crevan]