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Description

Set mid-autumn 2023, within the Mirrorwood.

There was a chilled wind blowing, but little leaves left for it to rustle. The trees of the north had all but shed them so late in the season. Winter was rapidly approaching. He was trying–trying being the operative word here–to keep his head down and do his task. The Ocuuli needed to stock his stores in preparation for the coming cold. That was the only reason he was out so late, rather than in the comfort of his den. Instead, Kefir was out here where the air's icy fingers tugged at his dark fur. One shadow among many, he wound his way through the grove with the feeling of eyes on his back. It was a familiar feeling these days: The feeling of something lurking. Every shadow held a set of eyes… or so he thought.

He groused an unintelligible sort of huff, turning his yellow gaze unto the dark. As usual, there was nothing there. It was just his imagination, he told himself. There was nothing lurking in the shadows.

“S’all in your head, isn’t it?” he considered aloud, voice filling the otherwise silent hollow. “S’nothing there. That’s just how this works… It creeps into your head and whispers. But listen–just listen–”

There was nothing there. It was him. Just him.

“Just me.”

Kefir shouldered on through the night. While the evening quiet was something he had never minded before, he had more recently made an effort to avoid it altogether. The uneasy feeling in his bones had a habit of creeping up on him when the darkness fell. The shadows had a way of showing him things that didn’t exist. How could they? Neith said that they didn’t. All the same, he felt that increasingly familiar, thready sort of feeling settle in his chest.

He tried to cast it aside, rocking back on his haunches so that he could reach up and examine the gnarled branch of a tree and put his mind elsewhere. He fixed his sights on the bark of the branch, and gave it an investigatory sniff. The imaginary eyes lingered on his pelt still, and his heart tapped out a dissonant rhythm behind his ribs. Once again, he told himself there was nothing there.

Except that there was.

Kefir’s eyes had only flicked away from the bark for a second to reassure himself. In the mists of the night, another pair blinked back at him before blinking out of existence all together. For one moment he stood frozen, certain he was going to be sick. If his mind had been all together, maybe the supposed healer would’ve taken a little nibble of the tree bark to soothe his dropped stomach. Instead, like the coward he was, he ran.

The eyes hadn’t been real. There was no mistaking them for that… But magic was no more his friend than reality. Whatever was lurking was getting worse. It was showing itself more often, more plainly. It was…

It was coming for him.

WC: 497

Kefir: full body (+2 Souls)

Kefir © WinterCrow03

Please do not use/claim the above artwork or character(s) as your own.

Description

Set mid-autumn 2023, within the Mirrorwood.

There was a chilled wind blowing, but little leaves left for it to rustle. The trees of the north had all but shed them so late in the season. Winter was rapidly approaching. He was trying–trying being the operative word here–to keep his head down and do his task. The Ocuuli needed to stock his stores in preparation for the coming cold. That was the only reason he was out so late, rather than in the comfort of his den. Instead, Kefir was out here where the air's icy fingers tugged at his dark fur. One shadow among many, he wound his way through the grove with the feeling of eyes on his back. It was a familiar feeling these days: The feeling of something lurking. Every shadow held a set of eyes… or so he thought.

He groused an unintelligible sort of huff, turning his yellow gaze unto the dark. As usual, there was nothing there. It was just his imagination, he told himself. There was nothing lurking in the shadows.

“S’all in your head, isn’t it?” he considered aloud, voice filling the otherwise silent hollow. “S’nothing there. That’s just how this works… It creeps into your head and whispers. But listen–just listen–”

There was nothing there. It was him. Just him.

“Just me.”

Kefir shouldered on through the night. While the evening quiet was something he had never minded before, he had more recently made an effort to avoid it altogether. The uneasy feeling in his bones had a habit of creeping up on him when the darkness fell. The shadows had a way of showing him things that didn’t exist. How could they? Neith said that they didn’t. All the same, he felt that increasingly familiar, thready sort of feeling settle in his chest.

He tried to cast it aside, rocking back on his haunches so that he could reach up and examine the gnarled branch of a tree and put his mind elsewhere. He fixed his sights on the bark of the branch, and gave it an investigatory sniff. The imaginary eyes lingered on his pelt still, and his heart tapped out a dissonant rhythm behind his ribs. Once again, he told himself there was nothing there.

Except that there was.

Kefir’s eyes had only flicked away from the bark for a second to reassure himself. In the mists of the night, another pair blinked back at him before blinking out of existence all together. For one moment he stood frozen, certain he was going to be sick. If his mind had been all together, maybe the supposed healer would’ve taken a little nibble of the tree bark to soothe his dropped stomach. Instead, like the coward he was, he ran.

The eyes hadn’t been real. There was no mistaking them for that… But magic was no more his friend than reality. Whatever was lurking was getting worse. It was showing itself more often, more plainly. It was…

It was coming for him.

WC: 497

Kefir: full body (+2 Souls)

Kefir © WinterCrow03

Please do not use/claim the above artwork or character(s) as your own.