When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.


Behind These Castle Walls



What a tough nut to crack. Usually I can have a man fall to my feet in seconds but this boy is not like the rest. What made him so hollow? So monotone? I couldn't help that he had caught my interest. At this point all I wanted was to get inside his mind. I wanted to see his demons and introduce them to mine. She him the perks of living life empty. I could teach him so much, he could make a life for himself again under my instruction. As he scoffed and turned away I also released an exasperated puff of air. My charcoal tipped tail lowered to hang by my feet and my ears drew back. I turned my self away so he couldn't see the disbelief that was written on my face. A face contorted in an expression of 'really.' I could tell this just wasn't going to work in my favor.

Just as I was about to move on with my day I heard him name his pain. Annabel. Hmm. Sounds like a past lover. How pathetic. All this fuss is over 'the one who got away'? Is he really weak enough to give up the fight for something as trivial as love? Perhaps he isn't fit to be a soldier. Far too impressionable. Nevertheless, I'll take advantage of his loose tongue while I can. Besides, he called me beautiful. There's still hope for manipulation if I play my cards right. My words were soaked in fake admiration as I tried to stoke his ego. That was, after all, the best way to keep someone talking.

This... Annabel, was it? Who is she? She must be mighty special to garner this impressive display of loyalty.


/ Fae / Adult / Mate / Offspring / Pack / Rank / Morgin /

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