"Destiny is a granted rejoice, yet fate is an unexpected guest. It can leave, but a price one's can't pay. Within destiny, fate can be embraced and become the light to one's homes where one, two, and three can stands for each and another. Isn't it remarkable, Skuld?"
—Verðand (one of the three Norns)
It was afternoon and the night sky had been painted with emerald shining light. Its moon was shining, with clouds contemplating its light. The crescent moon itself had shine below to the trees of peeling bark, and sharp brittle branches.
Across the bleeding horizon by the bloodthirsty light, there lies a man in the land of soil that is deeper from the ground, concave shape, creating a pit of muddy ooze dirt. There he rested comfortably as if the forest had opened a shallow, jagged mouth just for him.
His hair was ruffled in messiness and chaotic ravenlike. With his pale blue sharp eyes, he noticed the drenched soil and sorrow of the air he breathed had led him clenching his jaw.
When he felt the sharp and angular bristles of the wood screaming right in front of him, he asked himself.
"Who am I, why am I here?". A sudden chasm silence fills the fog surrounding him.
His heart and mind tells him it's not the first time he breathed in the open forest. When he looked at his surroundings, his distorted rhythm of a heart wanted to escape his own chest by the terrifying silence the atmosphere gave to his soul.
Within the sorrow of the land, a mouth of him opened caused by the trembling body and gloomy cloudy fog bordering him. The atmosphere can't yet stop affecting his fearful frown eye and a parasitic chill climbs to his spine.
'This doesn't feel right.' thought the man, putting his hand over his shoulder. Unbelieving what was going on, his eyes and mouth turned from sleepless slumber marrow to frost.
Adjoining his agony, a realization had come to his senses. The environment was no longer silent, but predatory. There is a silhouette staring at him from the mist between the tree in front of him with two red emerald eyes. The desolate environment had turned against him. The floor beneath his bare feet seemed to liquefy. The chill of his spine had awakened, wondering what bloodthirsty fate he had come upon.
While squeezing his pale eyes to fight his dizziness, he is making sure this is not the last day he would hear his heartbeat pump to his blood.
"Fuck this shit." he shout.
Although trembling within a second of his slumber, he clenched his fist and was now ready to deal with fate. His right leg now turns over to the other side, stretched and creates an intense tension of his foot to the cold muddy oozing ground when the silhouette finally finds his prey.
He quickly put his arm back away from his chest, pressing his finger to the ground of damp earth mud to create the weight support of his body. He stood in the dirt land and overcame his fear.
The silhouette loomed from the fog and jumped near him detaching from the fog. He hesitates to fight and take a step back, causing a distance range. In a glimpse, he snatched fallen branches - A poor choice of weaponry but the only ones available to deal with such a bloodthirsty kind monster.
When the beast has appeared, it doesn't stop to run to the man's sight. It had branched horns and two sharp ears. It ran past through and tossed the weight to run faster as it could, as though the beast was running from something.
He felt a sense of relief. He lowered the branch he had taken from the ground and breathed with a ragged sigh.
"A damn deer" the man whispered to himself, though its red eyes watched him with a hunger no deer should have.
'Only a freaking stag.' he thought.