The wind whistles in the branches, while the sky remains overcast and dreary as always. Moss crunched under the cloaked figures foot. He had already lost one of his boots to a patch of swamp, and his horse bolted when he tried to lead it into a cave. Suddenly, a rustle sounds behind him. He quickly draws his dagger, watching carefully for signs of movement. He takes in the shadows, noting they remain stationary, dark as always. The man slowly sheaths the blade, but remains in the same pose, not moving. Again, a rustle, though this time it comes from far away. He starts to turn round when he hears a startled neigh. Then silence again, as deep and enveloping as quicksand. He steps froward, and his eyes meet- Icy, green oblivion... Should I continue writing? I'll edit this post if the answer is positive.
Thanks Karlsberg, I will keep on writing (and get a feedback thread) and I'll post the link here . Sorry for not replying, I've been away from the computer for a while