I walk on black stilts ablaze, like dead charcoal blowing in the wind after the intense heat of a fire, It is the dead of winter, when the bodies of the lifeless are left more..fresh than they would in the heat of summer's rays. My nose is always on the search for some new thing to dissect and inspect. My mind has still not strayed from Elric, and I am finding myself more and more frustrated about the whole situation. So, I decide to do what I always do. I seek to find more of the rotting dead to add to my growing collection, that is now gathered in the swamp of the crater.

I walk upon the snow with naturally delicate features, my legs long and my frame lithe. I am a girl of silver and gold, built for speed. I don't really need it though, when everything I interact with is dead. I am like the vulture watching you from the tree tops. I wait with a glisten in my eyes, hoping for you to die a slow, rather...unharmed death. I want as much intact as I can, so I can look at your corpse with my curious eyes. My white face is dirtied with the wet dirty snow, showing my recent digging into the land. I move carefully across the snowy earth, my nose inhaling each time to smell for some little dead treat to take to my lair.

I catch a wiff of wolves near by, and my ears perk on my head as my hazed over golden eyes spark in their direction. My silver tail lashes with irritation behind me. Last time I dare get near a group of wolves, some little...harlot took my Elric from me. I walk a little closer, keeping my gold-saddled form tucked between the shadows of the trees. I watch them from a distance, as they gather and fester. I can only feel an emotion of anger as I watch them. I feel it boiling deep inside, in the dark pit of my stomach that is filled with the bodies of scavenged dead.

I keep my head low, my limbs stiff as I watch them. I cannot help but to let a fang expose as my eyes wash over them. I only wish they were all dead. I wish the demons of the night would come and rip out their throats so I can take them all for myself. I want their lives to leave their bodies so I can wear them as my own, and their living...it just irritates me more than it ever has before. I will watch between twigs and branches, in the shadows that the snow dare not touch, and maybe, just maybe, one of them would drop dead, or make a mistake and come my way...