Activity

Thanks, I wanna critique of my WIP but I think I’m gonna wait first and do lore or random ideas (whichever hits me first) for a bit then and maybe get to my WIP eventually.
Ooh, that sounds awesome! My sister loves everything Middle-earth Tolken wrote, I’d love reading what spun off from that! <3

Welcome(ish?) @anne_the_noob14!

Welp…random thing that blew up out of the keyboard…XD

‘Wolf!’ She called ‘Wolf, why did you leave me?!’
Her eyes glimmer paleness under the lines of her red hood. ‘Wolf!’
The synthetic Forest half-glazed with shadow, the trees transparent black and the snow locking summer-flowers in ghostly depth. But there’s red in the Forest, ice-crusted roses in the corners, each flower looking more enchanted than the last. The Beast took the wrong one and look where he is now. But not her, she must pick the right one and pluck no other.
‘Because you’re a wolf doesn’t make you a monster.’ The red cloak hides her steel-encrusted body, almost wholly concealing her although the brilliant color bounces sharply off the snow-white. ‘I believed you were misjudged. Wolf!’
Her hand comes against stone in the snow until she brushes out the rest-in-peace of her grandmother’s grave. A low, vibrating snarl rumbles between the trees. She tenses, her hand drops under her cloak. He looked bigger than she’d every seen him before, drawing the shadow-trees around his fur. Staring up at him she backs a step, beside Grandmother’s grave.
‘What big eyes you have…’ Red as crimson. Another step back, frozen like the ground. ‘What big ears you have, what big hands you have!’ Rose petals red as blood whir in the shivering wind. Another step, her hand under her cloak.
‘What big claws you have! What big…’ Her breath hitches, hand locked on the weapon under her cloak. The blood-red eyes of Wolf reflect like terror, like living fear. Thought he was misjudged, not a monster, only someone broken like her. I believed in you. ‘What big lies you have!’
She twists back the string of the bow, the arrow red as roses as it fires. ‘And I’m not consumed by them anymore.’
The shadows of the Wolf shake and burst before red eyes are the last thing she sees of him.
‘I chose,’ She tugs the hood back releasing hair as black as the ebony pane tangled with rose-red locks. ‘I’m not the victim of the fairytale, I’m the Hunter now.’
The synthetic world faded around her into roses, turning to the next page of the maze. So she wakes up in front of the castle webbed in thorns, the rose still missing. ‘I’m waking up now.’