Such a morbid young lady!

Scroll over the lines in French in order to see a translation! I won't use this all the time, but for now I will.

It was one of the darkest forests she had ever seen. Conifers, branches thick with dark needles blocked the sun from the forest floor. Mist swirled in between the thick, moss swaddled trunks, cloying and sibulant. It gave off such a dark, foreboding feel, as if one could lose themselves in this forest and be trapped, soul and all. Maybe it was one of those spirit forests where the souls of the departed lived and threatened to drag the living into their ranks...

"Mon, mon, vieille fille! Vous êtes devenant en de plus en plus morbide, ne sont pas vous?" Erika laughed at herself. Ever since she lost the fur on the right side of her face she has become more funereal, more morbid. Maybe it is because half of her face looks so skull-like. Perhaps it was her near death experiences. Ah, Qui sait? Qui s'en soucie?

The black wolf kept travelling at a steady pace, enjoying the crunch of pine needles and loam underneath her pads. The light around her increased as she reached the edge of the forest. A little while away, a gray behemoth soared towards the sky. A mountain. No, not just a mountain, a mountain range. Erika's golden eyes drank in the scenery. Her head tipped back to seek the peak of the silver goliath. In the back of her mind she wondered if anyone has ever fell from one of its cliffs.