the words we speak in the silence between

The forest pressed quiet and close, branches and boughs enshrouding the meandering paths. Beneath the trees a perpetual twilight spread dark-tendrilled fingers into an oppressive gloaming blanket, where even the sounds of Katriel's movements were muffled. It was the sort of ancient, sacred space that birthed its own dreams and nightmares, stories whispered in the wake of its mere existence. It was almost a familiar feeling - though the forest itself would have been young the last time Katriel had stepped into it.

She could not allow herself to be distracted by nostalgia, though. A missing child had spurred her venture into the fearsome wood, gone for hours by her parents' reckoning. With the Blight yet underway and demons prowling ever more frequently, nowhere was truly safe; even if her duty had not required it of her, Katriel would have volunteered for the sake of her own moral compass. Yet now, as she waded through the mud and the brambles, she sighed as her search turned up little of note. Millenia old, centuries of power at her fingertips, and she was reduced to this. A Warden in a tattered cloak, with wet socks and leaves in her hair. How glamorous, how powerful, how noble she must have seemed.

Just as she paused to cast a small search-and-find spell to help guide her way, the sound of a cracking twig echoed throughout the gloom. Her pointed ears twitched, and her yellow eyes cut through the shadows in search of her quarry. "Da'len? Garas tor, ra'eth. Ar ju'sul'ema vhenas." She cast her voice softly, so that even if the meaning was lost, her intention would be clear. The search-and-find spell flickered in her palm, confirming that the child lurked somewhere nearby - but for the moment, all that answered her was silence.