Blackfoot Forest Hush, Child...

Nightwing heard the voices calling her, as they always did, starting from the sunset and not stopping 'til the sunrise. This was why she had become nocturnal. Nocturnal as a bat, rising in the muted red of the sky after sunset to hunt and travel, and disappearing as if gone from the Earth in the dull and lifeless grey of the morning before the sun rose. She could not sleep once the whispering -- and sometimes screaming -- voices began. Mostly, though, they whispered. They whispered the better to tell her what to do, for she shut them out once they began screaming. She shut them out and ran until they were gone and she lay exhausted in some hole as the burning sun rose into the sky and turned the world awful colors.

Colors. She hated them. Anything that wasn't black or grey or silver or white, as the moon and stars, she hated. Part of that lay in the fact that she thought herself beautiful and her only colors were black and silver. And part of it lay in the fact that she had seen so little of the sun in the last months that it hurt her eyes to look at the world brightened. She preferred the monochromic world of the night, even despite the voices that plagued her. Her unusual lifestyle had eventually rewarded her with certain tools to help her survive. As a nocturnal creature, she had better eyesight at night, and had found ways to chase sleeping prey from their burrows, or simply dig them up.

She was, in fact, in the process of sniffing out some dinner, her nose to the ground near a rabbit hole, trying to decide how best to get the little creature out --

EAT, one of the voices told her. YES, said another. RIP OUT ITS THROAT. The voices came at her quite loudly, even though they were whispered. "Shut up!" she snapped, out loud, which caused the sleeping rabbit in its hole to awaken and shoot out between her legs. With a frustrated groan, she spun 'round and began the chase...