He could scent her. A stranger upon the lands of the dark ones. A grin would twist his features as he continued forward, his form gliding smoothly and quietly over the ground, the haze of the dark forest clouding his steps and silencing his approach. He was good at his, he was an assassin after all. It would only be moments before Sapphire pools would fall on a dame, not much smaller then him though quite different. He would approach with quiet air, speckled and creme pelt moving over the brush and tangled branches as he stepped quietly onto the ground behind her. "Do nach bhfuil i bhfad as an marc sa tuisceana cail?n beag." Rough Irish accent swept through the air, sapphire pools trained on her as he chuckled ominously.
Translation:Your not far off the mark in that assumption little lass.
