[P] silence like a cancer grows

[Anonymous]

A N O N Y M O U S Escape from the past was all he sought. When he found his way to this new continent, this new... adventure. Nothing was left for him back there except pain, shame, and no future. So he planned to move on and away from where he was. What he was. Now he's a ghost of what he once was, a shadow of the glory, the prince. In the cover of darkness, cloak wrapped over his shoulders, his wings, he walks along the bank of the creek. Eyes watchful as he moves silently, eyes, ears, and nose taking in his surroundings. The creatures around are soft in their rustling as the diurnals return to their nests, and the nocturnal begin to rise and awaken. He senses, without having seen a map or learned the full layout of the continent himself, that he walks the boundary between two realms. The southern bank, where he treads now, smells of pine tar and smoke, with a hint of fresh rainfall. Earthen. His breathing is soft, bringing no extra attention toward him as the night accepts him as one of its own. His keen eyes spot a small copse of trees by the bank, and he winds through them. Becoming immobile, he leans against a tree and watches. His gut, what he trusts above any of his five senses, whispers that something, or someone, is close by. The sounds around him grow dimmer, as if sensing the same. @Only

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