The liable night.
Centuries of folk lore, denouncing it's rigid reign over the world, and the unyielding grip protesting bravery in the hearts of men.
Where the sun failed to reveal the earth, the dark made homes that would swallow armies whole.
Such is the nature of a lightless land, where even shadows would grow lost without their companion.
Grass tickled the feet, and mud dirtied the discomfort, picking up the land beneath her she yearned for the safety of her own life.
A life, marred by shame and failure, but her life, her entire existence hanging by the threads of old tapestries in monasteries carrying the legacy of her name.
An existence given purpose only by the name on her back.
She ran deep into the forest, where not a ray of light could be seen, and only the blustering songs of the discordant creatures could be heard echoing as if the dead reaching for her.
