The Black Forest. A place every Wolf learned of and learned to fear before they were yet weaned. The forest was twice the size of the settled North, a place of savagery and sorcery, so named from the bitter black Yronwood trees that made up the majority of the wood. Though it should be said that there were no shortage of other trees as well.
chiefly great grand oaks that towered above all aside from the yronwood and the great pale barked fir trees that ranged in the northern part of the great forest. There were also in great number, Hawthorne and yew and elm as well, with wild twisted willows wide as manor houses found scattered throughout.
The Black Forest, so named for the blackness of the Yronwoods but yet never feared for its trees. The Black Forest so named and so feared for in the darkness below the canopy it was a place of black magic and black deed. Home to sorcerer and savage that sought the sustenance of civilization and claimed such with blood and blade, fire and tooth, depredation and evil.
The forest was home to many packs of roving Wild Wolves. Reavers and rapers and monsters were they. Some were less monsterous than that but those Wolves were few and far between and a sight still more savage than those who sat amongst stone and civility.
Traveling alone in this dark place was Declan, son of Durin IV, brother to Durin V, and once the pledged brother to Aelin Erevos, Anasa to all south of Dread Canyon.
He chose to keep near to the coast where the trees were thinner so as to try and prevent becoming lost. He would travel eastward into the forest only until he could no longer hear the gulls or crashing of waves, knowing if he could no longer hear those sounds he had gone too far. Wolf ears being what they were, however, allowed Declan to travel many miles and still hear the sounds of the sea should he have need to go deeper.
The moon had taken hold of the night sky many hours ago. Bathing Declan and his path in the azure shimmer of moonlight. It gave him great heart to have Krova cast her gaze upon him for she was the God most revered in The North as it was known that she alone kept her heart open to them and blessed their yearly yields.
His travels though not burdened by heavy thickets of tree or as of yet spoiled by any encounter by the raiders of The Wilds, as the Black Forest is commonly known to its inhabitants, was still an arduous one, plagued by many miles of uphill travel and many a stoney and hard path with many times where Declan found his way blocked by trees grown to tall and heavy for the weak soil to hold that had come crashing to the ground or on an occasion or two he had found his way blocked by a landslide or some such other calamity that had brought boulder and stone to block the easy places to step.
All these troubles had made it so not even his gladness at the moonlight could convince him to carry on but instead gave him strength enough to set up a small campfire. He, with the blood of winter in his veins needed not the warmth of the fire and all who knew the Black Forest knew fire was a sure way to draw down those things best avoided but Declan was hungry and truth be told a tad bored and so he started his fire and began roasting two whole rabbit-like creatures he had managed to capture the day before.
The Black Forest. Named as much for the black bark of its trees as for the black and terrible deeds done within. Some would tell that its name came from the crows. Crows especially would tell this. Black winged tricksters that found no greater pleasure than the misery of other living creatures, especially those that ambled around on two legs when they could choose to have four. A great number of crows gather in the trees around him, black phantoms that could not been see save for when the moonlight glinted in their all to clever eyes.
They corked and crooned in crow-speech. Saying nothing intelligible at all and laughing to themselves. After some moment of consideration Declan thought he could make out what had given the gaggle of crowd over to gales of laughter. Between the corks and croons that meant although not a thing to Declan at all he could understand some.
"Someone is on approach! The fire draws them close! This one does not know! What luck for us crows! Dinner! And a shows!"
Declan heard nothing but the crackle of flame and giggling of crows even as he listened with all his concentration to the dark wood around him. No shape appeared in the moonlight only smoke stung his eyes. He could smell only the burning of wood or meat roasting.
This was some trick of the crows He decided, unaware another had entered the woods not but a few days after he and they were near, having ways to conceal themselves the son of Durin could not understand and did not know…
Valery Noble
