The White Forest, which stretched across the broad back of the Island of Niva, was not a mere stretch of trees. Spectral mounds of fungus sprawled between the ancient trunks. Sugar-dusted spiderwebs gleamed in the cold winter dawn between austere branches. Evil brambles reached into dense thickets with many-spiked fingers and every step was treacherous and wore heavy upon he who took it. A soft blanket of snow lay heavy and still on the uneven ground. It’s softness muffled the howl of the approaching wind.
It was into this unforgiving abyss that Regina found herself advancing. Her blade kissed the cool air with an Arctic hiss as her eyes darted between the silent trees.
She could sense that she was not alone.
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