She is beauty, she is grace; She’ll punch you in the face.

The stranger's presence in the dense jungle stirred a faint response in the woman. The fog, like a heavy shroud, draped the surroundings, mirroring the mist of sorrow that enveloped her heart. She was lost in it, lost to it. A ghost – she may as well have been. She did not feel the slightest bit alive. Were these her paws? Riddled in cuts, scrapes, and dried, flaking blood? Was this her body at all? Her mouth hurt. Why? Her tongue carefully ran along her gums and she found only splinters and blood she could not taste. Until now. How did they come to be? Why was the clearing in such ruins? Did any of her questions matter?

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she raised her skull to peer weakly at the stranger. A brown feline, a tiger. But from Cierzo there was no fear or worry as to why the larger predator had approached her. Melancholy clung to her, her once gentle spirit weighed down by the burden of grief. Everything felt like a somber echo of the happiness she had lost. Even the idea that maybe this tiger would kill her. Couldn’t she? Wouldn’t she? Wasn’t that the best thing that could happen now?

Her gaze locked with that of her reaper, her lovely face now drained of vitality. She was akin to a wilted flower. The woman lowered her gaze, her meekness evident as she struggled to find words to convey the weight of her grief. "It- It was a force beyond understanding,"She whispered, her voice trembling with sorrow. "There is no beauty here. It has faded, and all that remains is- is nothing. Me." The blush creature, and really all she was now was... just a pit of despair, looked on at the tiger with a brokenness. One that sought reprieve.

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