The Dragonstone

CHAPTER 17

Bounded on the north by the towering Grimwall Mountains, on the east by the swift-flowing Wolf River, on the south by the rolling plains of Aralan, and on the west by a broad, open stretch of prairie reaching across to the Khalian Mire, there lie two vast timberlands, joined flank to flank by a wide strip of forest running between. They are the Skog and Darda Vrka, and together they span four hundred miles west to east and two hundred and fifty north to south.

It is said that the Skog is the oldest forest in Mithgar, and perhaps this is true, for the Elves call it by no other name. They do not even call it Darda, but merely refer to it as the Skog. And so perhaps there is something to the tale that the Skog is the eldest… yet joined as it is to Darda Vrka, it is difficult to separate the age of the two.

Yet of the twain, it is Darda Vrka, the Wolfwood, captured forever in the songs of bards: songs which fill the very soul to the brim with a longing for the times of legend; songs that bring a glitter to the eyes of all who hear; songs of the Wolfwood where beasts of the elden days once and perhaps yet may dwell: High Eagles, White Harts, horned horses named Unicorn, Bears that once were Men, and more, many more of these mystical, mythical creatures… the forest ruled o'er by great Silver Wolves- the Draega of Adonar-or mayhap the Wizard some say dwells within. Aye, it is the Wolfwood bards sing of: a wide forest, an ancient forest, an enchanted forest, a warded forest shunned by those who would do evil.

But the bards neither sing songs nor tell tales of the ancient, hoary Skog, nor speak a word of who or what dwells deep in the shadows therein.