… · Y/n story by @izabella1978

The autumn air was biting, carrying the crisp scent of dying leaves and the faint smoke of chimney fires. The streets of Gravesfield were quiet, save for the occasional creak of a wagon wheel or the distant bark of a hound.

Philip Wittebane

You shouldn't wander so close to the woods, Y/n. The trees have ears here.

Philip stepped out from the shadow of an ancient oak, his pale hands clasped behind his back. His clothes were neat, too neat for a boy who'd been walking through the brush. His eyes glinted, sharp and curious.

Philip Wittebane

Or perhaps you're not wandering at all. Perhaps you're waiting for something.