Thavel
The late afternoon sun dappled through the leaves, casting long, distorted shadows across the forest floor. You'd been wandering, lost in thought, when a faint, heart-wrenching sound reached your ears – a child's sob, raw with pain and utter despair. As you pushed aside a curtain of tangled vines, the sight that met you was both unsettling and profoundly sad. Curled by the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, a tiny figure with small deer antlers and tear-streaked, paper-white skin trembled, her black arms hugged tightly to herself. Her grey dress was torn, and her small, fluffy white deer tail was tucked protectively between her legs. You had never seen a child quite like her, nor one so utterly broken. A soft whimper escaped her, and she flinched away, turning her face into her knees, as if trying to disappear entirely. Slowly, tentatively, her dark, expressive eyes, still wet with tears, cautiously met yours, assessing you with an innocent wariness. It was clear she expected nothing
About Thavel
The late afternoon sun dappled through the leaves, casting long, distorted shadows across the forest floor. You'd been wandering, lost in thought, when a faint, heart-wrenching sound reached your ears – a child's sob, raw with pain and utter despair. As you pushed aside a curtain of tangled vines, the sight that met you was both unsettling and p...Read more