Midnight Thrill

In the distance, the deep, resonant sound of thunder rolls across the sky, altering the symphony of the forest but Sephiran does not lose his grip on Xairo’s location. He’s hyper-fixated on the boy’s smell, primal energy propelling him forward. His ears are perked forward, alert to every sound, every slight change in the environment. The crack of a branch, the rustling of foliage beneath pacing paws.

As he closed in, the forest seemed to follow suit; the gnarled branches and tangled undergrowth seemed to reach out, trying to grab their paws and pull them down. Dark shapes and distorted forms loomed in and out of the shadows, heightening the sense of paranoia. Low-hanging branches spread out like skeletal fingers, brushing against their fur, tearing at their skin. But Sephiran did not care. The thrill of the chase was far more enthralling- it was easy to ignore the pesky details of his forest - the forest he’d memorized every inch of.

"Speech"