to her heart and mind, implanting runes of fatigue and
ill-boding wills to drown in those rising black tides
or smothered in the ebony wings of the raven; the
messanger of death. Would it come so swiftly? Another
totted step, a snap of branch beneath dazed stealth as
strength and composure would falter, legs buckling
beneath her as conscienceness plummets into the
darkness of the mind. A sickness, the weakening of
energy produced by the rift of mental, emotional and
spiritual duress- it had taken its toll and now she
would collapse to the damp forest floor and bed of
fallen leaves. Limp as if lifeless to this world,
sprawled in a neat bundle though picturesque face
hidden beneath ravenesque cascades shimmering in the
gloaming; the gentle kiss upon pale flesh as ethereal
fingers of moonlight stroked through her hair- (cont)



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