The Dark Hound

I had fallen into a the forest again. The Stag Queen was leading me somewhere. We walked alongside a river and I was shocked when a dark hound, large as she, came out of the wood and sank his long teeth into her flank. Blood flowed and the battle was quick. Yet she survived and I wonder who this new figure is.

He Who Waits stands in the shadows, not lurking. He simply is waiting, watching, guarding. There is not much to tell about this figure. Man or beast; god or spirit. I don’t know, but he is still here. Still around and still waiting.

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