Ghost Stories and Campfire Songs [AW]

Faelene slipped into the fog like a phantom. Her earthen pelt was a mixture of browns and silvers that blended with the low hanging fog. She moved with liquid fluidity, like water given physical form. Her skull was poised high, elongated tail a curving banner behind her rump. She moved with dignity, nobility, she saw herself above the common peasantry that surrounded her and it showed. Why waste her time on plebeians who were dull or insipid? This land was new to her and while vast and varying in environment, she found herself uninspired by the lack of, well, anything. Were these lands empty? Devoid of any souls at all? Territory disputes had been common place in her previous home. Perhaps this land was simply at peace.

A voice beckoned to her, commanding her to slip from the fog and the Romanian gypsy's ears flattened against her crown while her nostrils flared at the pure indignity. Silver eyes narrowed into fine points, twin daggers of serrated steel. She turned if only to confront the idiot who dared accost her. She stepped from the fog with grace, each slender paw imprinting her presence upon the soil while her eyes locked and focused on the emerald green oculars of the child before her. "What right have you to command me Copil? (child)" Her words were sharp, the Romanian accent thick and harsh as it cracked off the tip of her tongue like a whip.