Ayva had heard stories of The Raven Wood. The forest that no one leaves. It’d wrapped it’s dark hands around the kingdom and held tight to the walls that separated the people from the grim silence of the trees. It wasn’t a place for a princess. Her father had told her that, not a place for royals. But she wasn’t a princess anymore and the woods were the only place she knew would allow her to disappear. Looking down at the thick tree’s from her position on the outlying wall, Ayva could see how this would be true. It was also here where her plan hit a relatively large snag. The wall towered twenty feet from the ground on the castle side. As Ayva peered over the edge towards the woods she couldn’t see even a glimpse of the ground beneath …show more content…
There could be an assumption made that the ground was even on either side, but that made no account for what lay beneath the tree branches. She could survive a straight fall, as she had already, but breaking a bone and being run through by some unseen sharp trap were two very different things. Ayva was gifted, she was not that gifted. “You can do this. This or the tower again.” Ayva spoke to herself in a hushed tone, clenching her hands into fists at her side. One more fall, then she was free. Just one more. A moment more of pain and then she could be without the constant demand for her powers. Her damn gold blood. “Figure on the ramparts!” The call startled Ayva from her thoughts, blinking into the darkness and searching for the source of the voice. Flames from lit torches streamed out of a guard tower and Ayva could hear the beat of her heart pick up as the lights grew closer. They’d drag her back to the castle once they saw who she was, that or run her through where she stood. She wasn’t quite sure which option would be more …show more content…
Ayva didn’t move to see what it was, her attention trained on the thin blade clutched in the others hand. She could tell it’s a sword but the make was not of the Daemos smiths. It was too thin, sloped with a small curve to a tip with two points. It looked like a serpent, long and dangerous, baring it’s fangs. Ayva was entranced by it. A work of beauty molded into iron. Her focus didn’t return to the dark skinned female until a hand was on her wrist, pulling her forward. “The guards are following you.” Her voice was low and rich, sending a chill down Ayva’s spine. “Follow me if you wish not to be gutted for those pretty gold earrings you stole.” “Pardon?” Ayva blinked at her, lifting her free hand to her ears and cursing herself when she felt the coolness of the golden studs. She’d forgotten to strip those off in her haste to leave.“I’d give them up willingly.” Ayva voice is hushed to match the tone the other had set. “Doesn’t matter, these ones enjoy killing thieves. Come now, follow me.” Her grip tightened on Ayva’s wrist, pulling her farther into the brush. There wasn’t a moment to question how the woman had appeared in front of her or if she too had seen the large red stained bird that Ayva
“Aveline?” he asked, taking in her appearance as his heart broke. If you haven’t betrayed your friends, none of this would have happened. This is for you! I followed you blindly, never questioned your orders, hell I considered you a father figure, but I couldn’t follow you to Switzerland.
...ot be killed. Fastened to the tree she is vulnerable to the creatures of the woods and the Shadowbrute.
The gnawing voice in the back of her head wouldn’t stop reminding her of the hell his arrival would bring. As the day grew close, the voice became louder, urging her to do something. But there was only so much she could do locked away in a concrete box.
There have always been many different trees are found in the forest. Tall ones, round of leaf and with broad branches spread open in welcome. Short ones are found here as well, with thin trunks and wiry limbs they sway in the breeze. A wide variety of foliage in the emerald grove dancing merrily to the whispers of the wind. In this quiet thicket, a different type of tree grows, too. They stand resolute, patient, and ever growing.
she cried out "please turn me into a tree". Her wish was granted. She was
This paper will begin with the forest in today’s fairy tale, trace this usage of the forest back to Grimms’ tales and discuss why the forest might have been important to the Grimms’
Reyna wandered the camp until she found the tent that had to be Eliza’s. Reyna was circling the tent to find the best entrance when a harsh hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned, expecting a furious Hylla; instead, she found a nightmare.
removed her overthrow as she was too hot. She had to find a job. She
Surrounding trees snaked from the soil into the arms of the obscure sky, the serrated wood conceiving faces in agony. The individuals fond of superstitions would whisper to you that the trees were actually in pain, mustering up noises enough to rupture the eardrums. Not a blade of green grass or life, for that matter, grew
He is more daunting than she thought a man might be. Both are unaware of what the other may want and are at the ready. He looks over at his rifle and then back at Keeva. He thinks better than to kill this beautiful beast.
To Lyubov the Cherry Orchard means so much more than the acres and acres of beautiful cherry trees and rivers; so much more than the piece of land that was featured in the encyclopedia. To her it represents her sense of nostalgia, a longing for the past. It is the place where her grandparents lived. Her mother and father lived there as well. It reminds Lyubov of her youth. When she looks at the cherry trees she does not just see branches and blossoms, she sees a time when she walked through the orchard with her mother as a young girl. She says “I used to sleep here when I was little…and here I am like a child again.” Lyubov’s innocence also remains a part of the Cherry Orchard, for as a child she did not own serfs or squander her family’s money. Even though the Cherry Orchard invokes thoughts of her lost husband and son, she still treasures it.
Being half as tall as an elephant, having the hair of a Afghan hound, and a decent amount of Melanin;My body characteristics helped me survive in this environment. I had no ambitions, no motivations to do anything with my life. I preferred the woods because I couldn’t bare to live in the Kingdom with Queen Grimhilde, as she was quite possible the darkest soul I knew. Rumor was she tried to have the princess
Her voice echoed off the walls, the sound hurting her ears. Ashlyn tried climbing up the walls, but for some reason, she just slipped back down every time. She sighed and looked up, feeling hopeless. Then she noticed a bucket hanging down from the top of the walls. Reality was a slap to the face.
In every battle he had fought, he was mocked for dressing as he did which was in honour of his grandfather who accomplished far more than he ever would have. He was certain his grandfather went through this in his later years. "For tradition's sake." he answered her as he kept it short and sweet. It was clear that he wasn't keen to the idea of entertaining this sadistic creature. His eyes still pierced into every bit of her anatomy: legs, back, musculature, and anything he could find that could give him a clue to the intent of her movements. He counted the seconds it took for her to move behind him and circle back into his field of view. It was stupid of him to try and be tough, he figured -- but he listened, and he kept every bit of his expertise on full alert. Eyes were on her tail, and he was itching to draw his guns; nearly holding his own breath to stop himself from making the first
The tree is very much like a queen, wearing its dress of leaves. I would not reach out and touch it—because it would be rude. At the shoulders of the tree—the branches fork off into three directions. The thick branches hold up more green leaves—the delicate kind—shaping the head of the tree like a mushroom. The tree resembles a green Queen Amadalia—young and bright. When I looked up at her, you see the sunlight reflect off her hair—the leaves—creating a peaceful glow. It blurs everything, however, and I had to stop looking. The wind does blow the leaves, but it is so lightly that you can barely tell. The fountain near by spurts out water in this direction.