The Black Stag
He moved like a shadow, silent and fluid. He was larger than any stag she had ever laid eyes on and as sable as a raven's wings. Even his hooves and enormous antlers were dark, shining ebony. His whole being was gloom and smoke, pitch, except for his shining red eyes. The eyes were what captivated her: rich, deep, crimson that pierced through the dark woods, like light glittering off of cerise rubies. He walked towards her without a sound, his shining, blood eyes fixed on only her, until he stood before her, an enormous inky stag before a silvery fallen angel.