Spotted Eagle Mountain there's really no way of winning

An echo of a raven she once knew was not far.

Though this one was not dead.

This one had a heart thrashing in her chest, with lungs of great mammals before their time breathing in controlled excess. She is alive and merciless in mind.

Though she is a handcrafted jester of the devil's hands, doing cartwheels at his feet and spinning in circles at command.

From the depths, she's followed a scent! Night was welcoming of scent travel and offered her a path to a familiar scent. One of the many she'd been bouncing around with.

She comes in confident, head high and tossing aside the aggressive memory of her. Death is ignorable!

"You here? Alone?" She means not to startle her, so she arrives to her vision from her right with good distance, sitting in her peripherals.