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    Summary

    Normally in the summer evenings the cicadas would fill the air with their songs. Then there were the sounds of the foxes that would slowly creep through the night for a little hunt or to burrow, with their claws lightly scraping the ground, and then there were the soft screeches of owls that would fill the trees as they hunt for the little mice who braved the darkness. Boars would be scavenging through the woods unless they found an easy target to hunt.

    Yet as he opened his eyes to the star filled sky and the blood moon above, he finds himself uneased. This kind of silence from so many of the predators in these mountains was ominous, like they sensed something far more dangerous than themselves was coming.

    Language:
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