Phoenix Maplewood so come sit down, will you talk with me now

@Reek

at first the scullion questioned the authenticity of the scent before her, so clandestine and crisp it wafted along the berry path. she paused, an angular thing swathed by dappled shadows -- a singular golden beam illuminating the sharpness of her muzzle as she held it in mid-air. the forest she paused in was touched by a soft afterglow of gentle sunlight; as if nothing rustled between the slender twigs save for soft spirits and sunsplatter.

but she was not a soft spirit, and she stole close into the territory chasing this phantom scent. she was careful to avoid outright trespass, though her ghastly frame once or twice near strayed the border. she came to a temperate rise where the conifers offered both seclusion and shade from the outer world -- and like some harmful djinn the urchin slid into the cold fold of the shadows, tucked neatly under the hanging lip of a downed and rotted tree. here she would wait and watch the world pass her by -- a torpid slouch hunched over in wait for her next unassuming victim.