Wolf, Forest, Runes

We stepped into this place, long ago. We did not intend to, back then. Nor we do now, because this is the place where the world of the dead surfaces to the eyes of the living. A wolf will guide us across the dark forest, when the moment of our own death will come. Look around. Remember. Preserve this semiconscious memory along your times to come. Scattered symbols surface from the moss, from the otherwise undecipherable ground. Squared stones, some remains of some long gone great kingdom. Maybe there was something. A clue, a further meaning. This is an illusion, nothing more. These signs have no meaning. They are no letters at all, no runes even. No symbols. This is the world of the dead. No time, no sense. Just the evanescence. The is the dance of the will - ‘o-the-wisp.