Miranja by sankri
The air was so cold, so sharp in her lungs… The hills so empty and dead, as if they were in their deepest sleep. Snow fell and melted gently on her soft, cold skin. Frozen grass broke under her feet, and every step she took lead her further and further away from the boarders. In her mind her dead fathers word repeated itself again and again: never cross the woods after midday. Never after midday… But today there was something unusual in the air. Something wrong. She saw it in the eyes of her falcons too. Their eyes were wild and filled with tension, and they knew what was wrong. She just had to walk on. …And just then, when she had climbed the last dying hill, she saw it. Her heart stopped.
Her breath became like ice, and she knew she could never ever go back again…
Made in Photoshop, approximately 80 hours