Blackfoot Forest a fog rolls in

Little in and out!

She would believe it was her who brought the fog, she who came in the dead of the night, would bring in the blessed Beaver Moon as was properly fit—
xxxxThe cacophony that came with the kill! The foxes had not seen her coming, how could they! Shhhhh shhhhhhh sweetlings, she murmurs to the many dead, He will be most pleased, He will thank you for your service! Her girlish lilt was more painful than their kins screeching, and her ears fan atop her head as the fog rolls in. (You are walking. He is coming.) She hears the voices. She pauses. (You are wearing their blood. You are looking for Him. We will help you find Him. You must walk. You are walking. Now, run.)
xxxxShe is running. The Loa are dancing. Nearby to all approaching wolves is a pile of many dead foxes, a brutal sacrifice, and herbs she knew would please—the fates would soon be in her favor again!