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#inktober day 31 #raidothebook

Leithe flew through the forest, faster than a doe, her light feet barely touching the ground. She had had to hold back, however as she needed to follow Geathan. The old faithful fox rushed forward in a streak of red lightning, guiding her way. He breathed heavily, snarling yet refusing to decrease his unnatural pace, grim determination contorting his greying scarred snout. Leithe heard the air painfully escaping Geathan’s lungs and it tore at her heart.
This morning she woke up in the underhill, feeling strong and rested for the first time in the recent two weeks of mad flight from the Hunters. She remembered fighting back to back with Raido, surrounded by the Vraine. She still could hear Raido’s terrifying, wrathful roar when she had got wounded by a bone arrow and the strange herb smell of it. And remembered the gruesome death of the wailing archer as Wanderer had finally laid his hands upon him. Leithe had barely had any memories of the later days, everything a blur of strange visions and fever. She recalled Raido carrying her and humming quietly songs in ancient, half-familiar language she could barely understand. Somehow she knew he had been driving away the nightmarish visions that tried to cling to her. Waking up at camps Leithe would always see him sitting watchful, his back straight, blade across his knees.
Raido had barely fed her on the way, but each time she woke would give her bitter tea. She remembered clearly only his eyes, worried and kind, with dark circles from the lack of sleep.
And then there was underhill, green and mossy, and regained strength. Wanderer was gone, yet his armored coat which he had never left behind, was carefully wrapped around her.. Then in a whirlwind of red-and-gray fur Geathan, her dear companion had burst in and Leithe’s heart sunk.

#raido

Description

#inktober day 31 #raidothebook

Leithe flew through the forest, faster than a doe, her light feet barely touching the ground. She had had to hold back, however as she needed to follow Geathan. The old faithful fox rushed forward in a streak of red lightning, guiding her way. He breathed heavily, snarling yet refusing to decrease his unnatural pace, grim determination contorting his greying scarred snout. Leithe heard the air painfully escaping Geathan’s lungs and it tore at her heart.
This morning she woke up in the underhill, feeling strong and rested for the first time in the recent two weeks of mad flight from the Hunters. She remembered fighting back to back with Raido, surrounded by the Vraine. She still could hear Raido’s terrifying, wrathful roar when she had got wounded by a bone arrow and the strange herb smell of it. And remembered the gruesome death of the wailing archer as Wanderer had finally laid his hands upon him. Leithe had barely had any memories of the later days, everything a blur of strange visions and fever. She recalled Raido carrying her and humming quietly songs in ancient, half-familiar language she could barely understand. Somehow she knew he had been driving away the nightmarish visions that tried to cling to her. Waking up at camps Leithe would always see him sitting watchful, his back straight, blade across his knees.
Raido had barely fed her on the way, but each time she woke would give her bitter tea. She remembered clearly only his eyes, worried and kind, with dark circles from the lack of sleep.
And then there was underhill, green and mossy, and regained strength. Wanderer was gone, yet his armored coat which he had never left behind, was carefully wrapped around her.. Then in a whirlwind of red-and-gray fur Geathan, her dear companion had burst in and Leithe’s heart sunk.

#raido