Meadowlark Prairie toccato and fugue in d minor

The dark woman did not make it a habit to venture beyond the woods her children rested, for she knew she was never truly alone at any given time; one always seemed to follow her trail as she went. Yet this time, she followed the most silent boy as he ventured beyond his boundaries and unto the world that laid beyond the shadowed forest. Narrowed optics observed in silence as the child simply sat in the face of a stranger; unwavering at a terrifyingly stoic gaze. Yet, it was when the stranger begun to speak to her son that she became curious, for she herself had only heard the boy's voice once before in the face of judgement. No reply came from the boy, and with the possibility of anger induced frustration bubbling from both ends, the woman found it best to intervene; she had no wish to deal with what had occurred only days before at the borders.

"Are you lost?" The dark woman inquired with a hint of distaste as well as curiosity; sauntering through the shadows to stand beside her child. The resemblance between mother and son quite apparent in the distant and icy exteriors they both wore; the malevolence of one generation to the next cultivated and honed within the dark woods the stranger had managed to stumble upon. Superiority verging on pride reeked from the woman herself, almost threatening the other to attempt anything to disrupt the nature of which she was found upon; met by the unwavering teeth and claw of the Silencer herself. However, there was nothing about her stance that signaled she held the intention to attack, for her son was a wanderer, she knew; the stranger did not look the part to steal away young children off pack borders. Unprovoked, the Silencer was agreeable, up until the point where she was not. There was never a loner who had wished to meet her presence on a bad day, especially in the presence of her children.