Little red riding hood

Gwynevere walked carefully along the edge of the river as she neared the falls themselves, the horsetail seeming to grow most plentifully where the mist of the falls added extra moisture to their environment, a realization she had with a hum. Perhaps if there was some way for her to make a mist like this in the greenhouse... But what would she use to get the water droplets this fine? They certainly couldn't have something has big as this waterfall contained in such a space. She thought about this as she picked pieces of the useful plant and tucked them away in her bag, careful to not collect too much from one particular plant so that it could grow back and she wouldn't over harvest them. There was a plentiful amount of it though and she wore a gentle smile as she quickly refilled her supply.

She was nearly about to turn to start heading back toward The Hallows, her mission to collect herbs seemingly a success, when a movement in the water caught her attention and made her lift her marbled lavender and and sage gaze to see what it was. At first she couldn't make out the dark shape past the mist, but her smile faded and her brows pulled together with worry. It looked like a wolf, but something wasn't quite right. Whoever it was didn't seem to be actively swimming, but instead floating. As it drew closer she started to be able to make out more details, her ears flicking back as she saw how it wasn't a wolf at all, or at least not a whole one. It was like the pelts that they used in their bedding or rugs, flattened and oddly shaped floating on top of the water.

Eventually as it got closer to the shore and enough of the mist from the falls had passed for her to see it clearly, her eyes widened in horror, feeling like all the blood had rushed down to her feet and panic gripped her chest as she stumbled back a couple steps, disbelief and shock written across her face. She blinked a couple of times, shaking her head as if she might just be seeing things. But when she looked back it was still there. She was still there. "Mom...?" she breathed, feeling herself tremble, her muscles locking up and forcing her to stand there instead of letting her turn and run like she wished she could. Every time she tried to lift a paw she couldn't make it move. Her wide, horrified eyes were locked on the skin of her late mother, floating toward her in the water, whatever was underneath it obscured by the mist. She tried to call for help, but it just came out as a quiet, terrified squeak.

Gwynevere | Eilwen