08-19-2008, 01:24 AM
[html]
Draco had been on the continent for over a month. He had not stayed in one place very long—he had wandered through the burnt forest on the far side of the mountain and looked for the things he could remember being told about. Everything had burnt down, though vegetation was starting to grow back. It would take years before it fully recovered, though he doubted anyone would want to return. The ash had become a remarkably accurate physical representation of everything bad in the world, and in one fell swoop it had gone up in flames. Even the falcon realized this, and they had made a point to leave the area each night, unwilling to sleep in such a place.
Now, though, Draco had settled for returning to what he had come to do. The scent had been varying and weak in the Dampwoods, and he had followed it south. To his right, the sun was setting, and his hair had picked up the burning red hue. He didn’t know exactly where this was leading him, but he kept walking. Now and again, the falcon’s shadow passed him, and Draco knew he would have to stop soon. Though he was comfortable in the dark, the bird’s eyesight was ruined and he became remarkably vulnerable.
Still, he had some time—and he was getting closer. He knew that. He could feel it.
I've got to remember this is just a game
Draco had been on the continent for over a month. He had not stayed in one place very long—he had wandered through the burnt forest on the far side of the mountain and looked for the things he could remember being told about. Everything had burnt down, though vegetation was starting to grow back. It would take years before it fully recovered, though he doubted anyone would want to return. The ash had become a remarkably accurate physical representation of everything bad in the world, and in one fell swoop it had gone up in flames. Even the falcon realized this, and they had made a point to leave the area each night, unwilling to sleep in such a place.
Now, though, Draco had settled for returning to what he had come to do. The scent had been varying and weak in the Dampwoods, and he had followed it south. To his right, the sun was setting, and his hair had picked up the burning red hue. He didn’t know exactly where this was leading him, but he kept walking. Now and again, the falcon’s shadow passed him, and Draco knew he would have to stop soon. Though he was comfortable in the dark, the bird’s eyesight was ruined and he became remarkably vulnerable.
Still, he had some time—and he was getting closer. He knew that. He could feel it.