Literature
Manuary - What the Forest Raised
The forest was their home.
Paint on their faces, double blades in their hands, furs across their backs. They were children of the wilderness, skulking through darkness to catch their prey and bind themselves ever closer to their god.
The Dark Hunter had chosen them to follow his path. And they knew that leaving behind everything that once mattered in their previous lives was only the beginning.
—-
Blood on the stone.
Wind tangled through their wild hair as they bled their prey, later skinning it and collecting trophies.
He never came to mark them as his in gratitude, but the tales made it clear that one night he would emerge from between the trees and take them with him—to hunt forever, to grant them eternal life.
They would be eternal as he was. Eternal as the forest.
—
The hunt.
They learned to eat through the still living tissue, their bloody footprints left in the pine needles and mossy earth. At night, when the cries of nocturnal birds pierced the air and leaves crunched
, drawn here by me.
