She was young but she was clever. Mother had never known of her greatness – she could never have even comprehended it. Oh, but she will know soon. She will not know when or where but it will be the easiest thing the young, demonic child will ever do in her life. After all, Naamah thinks that she is deceased.

The child walks with a confidence rarely seen in any of her age as she goes alone to embrace the darkness of Moladion. She is intelligent in the fact that she knows that she will not survive without help and it is not her intention to seek out Naamah at this point in time. Let her patience win over for now as she bides her time until she is older and stronger. Her direction is pointed toward the southern part of Moladion, of which she knows nothing of, for she seeks protection and shelter by those of a pack mentality. After all, what better way to live than to let others do the killing for you while you pull on their strings?

Her dainty paws step quietly in the short, dead grasses of winter as she approaches the river territory. Tangled and bare tree limbs scrape against one another in moans of agony above her as she creeps along. One black and one white eye search anxiously across the setting for any sort of patrol that may be passing by but to her dismay all that she comes across is a boy of silvered tones. Her demeanor instantly changes before he catches her approach; ears lain back, tail tucked, and eyes to the brim with sorrow. ”E-excuse me…” she whimpers almost inaudibly as she cautiously steps forward. ”I need somewhere to stay…” again with a pitiful ring to her words she has spoken.

Sever plays the character well – almost too well – for if she had known of what type Underidge is she may have approached him entirely differently. But even so, she will play her game of manipulation and mind control to what extent is needed, taking on any role deemed necessary for the moment. After all… she is the mastermind.