Black as mold by @katedagg (Kate Dagger)

He is as old as hunger, and ever in wait. In his wake blows winter. Rot is in his touch and breath. The groans of the starving are his laughter. Where he walks, crops wither and livestock fall dead. His smile is want, and his shadow is death. He is Famine, Rider of the Apocalypse. Artwork © Copyright 2002 Kate Dagger