i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
The sun has just reached the horizon in it’s downwards arch when Reave finds himself at the edges of the deep forest . Even with the northern moors now his, he cannot quite tame the restlessness of his feet. Tempered perhaps, but never tamed. There is so much in the world he has yet to see, so much he has only recently found to explore, that the wild temptation is far too much for the young stallion.
The forest is as familiar to him as anywhere, though the deepest and darkest parts of it still remain something of a mystery. There are few that dare venture so far in, and while Reave might have the desire, first youth had held him in check, and now the great harpy eagle in the trees above him. The bird (now Rune, they had agreed, but perhaps that would change too) was not nearly so enamored of the dark and cold of it.
With a sigh, Reave idly scratches the exposed bone of one shoulder against the bark of the tree beside him. The blood itches as it dries, though he’s not certain the sharp pain or fresh trickle of blood (now smeared on the tree) are worth the momentary relief he had found. Mother had told him more would eventually break through, but for now only the jutting points of his shoulder plates, hip bones, and the dull, splintered end of his bone mask had surfaced. Looking at Brazen however, he knows there is so much more to come.
He is not looking forward to it.
With another restless sigh, he starts abruptly forward, heading for the deeper woods, only to be halted once more by the sharp cry of the eagle. Lips slipping into a scowl, Reave lifts his head to glare at his companion, the low snort escaping his nostrils the only indication of their silent conversation.
reave
@[galadriel]