Golden Glade with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales

Amnesty didn't prefer to be alone, but it was practical for the time being— satisfactory to her needs— and she saw no reason to change her position rashly. Even the affliction that had befallen these lands gave her little reason to actively seek company. The bare trees and shrubs that whistled unhappily in the spring night did not frighten her, and in this mode she had no one to worry about but herself. It was healthier this way, for now, she presumed.

The grey creature coasted beneath the high moon, tongue lolling and eyes glistening towards every breezy shadow that shifted and every illusion of the earth moving caused by a cloud passing over the only light of midnight. Her belly felt unfortunately empty, and she searched for a place to tuck herself away for the night. So that she might forget her hunger in her sleep.