WOLVES MIST - Chapter 4(.0)
The young mage had gathered his robe up to try and keep it from snagging on the gnarled roots, twigs and plants as they ran. his hair was plastered to his face, sweat running down over his pale skin reddened with the blood of his exertion.
cassandra and me chapter 1
Say franticly trying to keep her from getting disappointed casandra sticks her tongue out at me jokingly "hah, i gotcha" she says smirking at me --------------------------------------------- later that day, i find myself hiking upon the sites of rather gnarled
Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter Twenty One
Some of them were dead, with nothing left but gnarled, rotting boughs. others stretched immense canopies with broad, sharp edged leaves of green and black. still others had layers of bristling green needles, dotted with red flowers.
The Wolf-King
The twisted and gnarled branches of corrupted trees clawed like skeletal fingers at the walls of the keep. the aging king resigned himself to the fate of a solemn guardian.
Ander - Chapter 1, Subchapter 16
The blind hag of a wolf said, pointing one gnarled finger at her son. "this is no time for your childish indulgences, boy!" a brief flicker of hope flared up in kiana's heart. "but mother!" "no! don't you see what this is?
Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter Sixteen
A blue-green fir, a pale green willow, a dark green oak, and flashes of brown where gnarled cypress roots tangled and fought with one another. it would have been a beautiful dive if not for mirelle screaming the whole way down.
Revaramek the Resplendent: Chapter Sixty Five
He'd found it deep below the surface, felt its gnarled shell, the shifting of its legs. it got a grip on one of his unsheathed claws and damn near snapped it off.
The Start of Something New: Chapter 2
Their gnarled branches covered the horizon, making her more terrified then ever. everything felt wrong. everything felt horribly wrong, and nothing fit in this scene.
Forest of Ghosts
Motes bent down to pick up a gnarled twig, shaggy with spanish moss — something that had never grown in the neighborhood before. "it feels like a ghost version of the neighborhood." "it is!"
Darkness in the Trees - large poem
Not a sound but my breath, hung in the gnarled branches. as my pads move silently over the ground i continue to hunt the unknown.
MLP: Believing in the Impossible - Chapter Seven
_ as the raven finished, as it melded into the surrounding dark of the ceiling, its spot of rest - the nearby door's gnarled knob - turned on its own to creak ominously open next.
Degeneracy Pressure (Chapter 3)
\>the trees, full and green in the summer and spectacularly colored in the fall, tower over you stark, black, and leafless, gnarled roots digging into the snow like cats' claws. 87.