Brynden stalked through the unfamiliar forest, bow in hands. He had decided to hunt something as to not starve, and he had caught sight of a buck not too far back.

However, a sudden change in aura made Brynden freeze. Brynden's red gaze drifted around, his surroundings were different, it was no longer the bright forest that had been before. It was darker, and there were odd markings on the trees around him.

Brynden furrowed his brows, tightening his grip on the bow. Something was amiss. There was no animals around, not even the sounds of birds... and the tree's creaked and groaned.

But the thing that had him the most on edge, was the disembodied whispers, mostly incoherent. Brynden swiped his tongue over his lips, trying to block out the whispers as he began to walk again.

The whispers started getting louder and louder, until he heard the whispers become a loud disembodied yell of his name. The yell had him whipping around, only to freeze in place, his brows raising.

His surroundings had changed again, the path he came from was now gone, and instead, there was a small hut with even more odd markings all over it. Brynden found himself drawing closer to it. And as he did, one thought came to mind.

Witchcraft.

Despite this thought, Brynden entered the hut. His pale skin shadowed by his hood.