The Seventh Dawn 13” x 20”

She came as she always did—

barefoot, quiet, unaware.

The forest knew her name by now.

So did he.

A thread of red whispered from the tree.

She followed.

A quiet messenger sat in the branches,

trying to warn her.

He was already there—

waiting, consumed by obsession,

his dark desire aching to be near her.

She followed the red.

Straight to her end.

No blood.

No scream.

Just silence—

and the red around her neck.