They said that the woods were haunted.
Indeed in the hollowed out tunnels beneath the roots lay a vast and sprawling ruins.
Deep, deeper still it ran.
The walls were lined in old stone bricks, and moss grew betwixt each.
And in the halls, the mournful sounds of strange, harrowing howls did fill.
Ephemeral lights played across each bowed head, garbed in ornate and tattered cloth.
From their crowns, antlers did sprout, and among their pelt shone plated bone.
Candles adorned their backs, in varying states of melt; wax caked their fur.
Each wretched beast part of a great cavalcade,
a procession of holy consort with the things that writhed between the stars.
Fishing Collection When, Wolvden?
