These Boots Are Made For Walking

The forest was one of those places which had no palpable reason to exist. It was a creaking shack created by nature to serve as a reminder that things could always be much, much worse. The unnatural, choking mist that swirled and sprawled on the forest floor was the first thing that spoke of a strange sort of wrongness. The sickly white substance seemed to possess liquid properties which only reminded the bronze Goddess of the maggot-like texture of the eyes of a dead lupine who had been forgotten in his den for a few months, ready to burst at the slightest touch. The smoke made no sound however and only parted to swallow up her ankles as she marched upon the giant dead, festering eyeball of the forest floor. The sound of mushy snow whispered from under the skin of the mist.

Fiery orange orbs that were swimming in a pool of violet scanned the perimeter, a necessary precaution she had habituated into her system from her premature year's as an abandoned whelp even when wandering upon a safe territory. Once reassurance had settled into the sinewy muscles that rippled beneath the autumn woman body, she made her way toward the small water pool. A plush, coral tongue lapped desirably at her ebon, succulent lips and once she was beside the oasis that beckoned so alluringly, her regal crown lowered and she relished at the cool liquid that iced its path down her jugular.