The full moon, shivering the dead leaves that have not yet fallen.
Casting light on the paths undiscovered.
Chills throwing through the mild forest wind.
No sounds are heard except for the occasional cry of a lonely wolf.
The small streams like veins flowing through the hollow, naked ground.
Under the thin mist, old tangled roots and dust from a thousand thoughts.
Every creature staring, helpless in the night.
Mist holding secret that nobody will be able to hear, nor want to.
A cry of another wolf, asking, pleading to the light consumed with darkness.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
(LOL). Lovely terms incorporated within the context and the story it conveys is exceptionally imaginative.
