Longer than she anticipated, her schemes were finally coming to fruition. She’d secured a pit which was protected from wondering eyes and attentive ears from Eden in Glorall. Now, she just needed to locate the cannibal who Grimoire intended to occupy the hole. She strode out with even strides into the waking free lands. With each step, her skin glided with the definition of her musculature. She’d taken careful measures to ensure herself fit for the coming race; food was in her stomach, but she had been careful not to gorge herself to avoid cramping.

In addition, her hydration level was decent from a morning lap through the tunnels of the Grotto. There was no better time to look for trouble than the instant her body felt the warmth of her care. And as she found her footing above ground in Ruieze Fields, her legs lifted with more ease and her vision sharpened like a knife taken to a whetting stone. The last of her dreary detachment left her facade with a deadly exhale that seemed to push dust from her lungs.

Catastrophic ease loosened her senses and her nose twitched with attentiveness. Many wolves passed the fields, but none had the perfume of wolf blood on their furs. Grimoire weaved through the tall, green grasses, searching for the sent of her chosen cannibal. Her search brought her to the boarder between Ruieze Fields and Enocra Woodland. It was hear, her nose tingled with barely a hair of familiarity. Grimoire paused, attempting to examine the scent, but only found the aroma fleeting. Her eyes narrowed in thought, but she could only decide to move closer to the treeline’s edge.