daveymare intro

The forest is still and quiet in the early morning mist. The sun's light filters through the leaves, setting the wood ablaze with brilliant yellows and oranges and reds. Fitting, given the quick approach of autumn. The smallest trees are especially beautiful, the small, round leaves alight with a fiery crimson. Underneath their branches are the last vestiges of its harvest, plum pits well-picked by the woodland scavengers. As you enter the peaceful scene, the wind begins to pick up, scattering leaves down to the ground and around your head. You shiver as the wind surprises you with the cold bite it contains. The beauty of the wood makes you forget that the colours are a symbol of coming death and scarcity, a reality that the wintery wind quickly reawakens.

You hesitate, but soon enter, and immediately it is if the wood is closing in around you. A glance behind shows that the entrance is no longer as close as it once was. Its as if you've been wandering for hours, the path backwards lost in the scattered leaves. The path ahead, however, is still perfectly clear. Nowhere else to go but forward. The trees grow ever thicker as the path continues, with only a faint orange glow from above showing that daylight is still around. The brush around the path starts to rustle, the sign that unseen creatures are stirring, hidden by the increasingly-twisted trunks.

Further down the path, you hear signs of a struggle and see the thrashing of leaves further ahead. Warily, you try to get a closer look, but freeze as a piercing screech of alarm rings through the trees. You piece together that it sounds like a bird, and it's confirmed when feathers quickly start to fly from the spot. The screams become underlaid with determined growls, and you can see the faint flicker of a dark-furred tail pressing up from the leaves, curled up high and confident like a dog's. Or, more possibly for this setting, a wolf.  The thrashing slows as it pins its prize down, going in for the kill...

But when you finally get to the scene, there is no blood. There is no wolf or bird, but the signs of their presence, the displaced leaves and torn feathers are still there. The wind picks up again, bringing with it a piercing chill that penetrates your clothing. You look up, seeing that the limbs above look just a bit more bare than when you entered, and are being stripped even further. Tugging your jacket around yourself tighter, you return to the trail and continue onwards, not sure what awaits you next...