listen to the whispers
In the haunted forest of course.
they are calling you
It was whispered through the trees like a soft wind. A rabbit, hunting for whatever meal it could, suddenly stood to attention, its eyes and ears turned towards an invisible presence. Suddenly, from the ground it seemed, a mist seemed to arise. In fear the rabbit sprang away and into the dark depths of the wood, the fog swirled in his path. It became suddenly chilly, very odd for outside the wood the sun beat furiously down upon the poor earth, scorching everything. But here is got cold, deathly cold, and the dead grasses formed dew that dripped heavily from their spikes. The mist hung like an ill omen over the empty clearing.
The whispering came again, like soft breathing it came, a voice barely audible was heard by no one, the trees themselves seemed to shiver and lean away from this presence, this essence of fear and pain and regret. The mist began to spin, like a whirlpool over the earth and began to rise. Slowly, it began to turn to the color of blood, red and sparkling in what little light there was here, and then abruptly it stopped, and settled to the ground like nothing more then a morning mist. And once more there was silence, and chill, and the suffocating presence of the dead. A feeling of loneliness and despair fell like a heavy blanket over the clearing. It felt like the quiet before the storm, with no storm following it. Horrible, painful madness gripped every living thing and to the shallow minded, it was nothing but a clearing.
But standing in the midst of it, two silvery yet crimson paws stood, and as the mist undulated in the air, the ghostly figure appeared and then disappeared just as quickly. Hello ? was said again, and the figure was once more visible, if slightly transparent. And suddenly she was aware of herself.
She was Ruby and she was home.
She is the presence of power.
The absence of fear.