A glance over the shoulder a whisper in the mist, an echo through the trees. Spirit travelers, shamans and tricksters. As surely as his paddle slices the surface, he knows he is not alone. Poem by Wintercove Paddler in the early morning mist.
photosworthseeing: “jalouise: “morning mist ” What beautiful captured morning mood. I like the sharp and dark branches in foreground while the trees slowly disappear in the fog which gives them also a.
In my game it will have a feel of life and death, the main character will be able to use his curse/power to bring death or bring life to the forest to get through areas, this gives me an idea how a dead forest would look.
the forest was drowning. I could hear the trees caught in the struggle between gulping down the water and dying in itour lives. deciding between embracing life to it's fullest or living safely a little longer.