Northstar Vale You are the nighttime fear

malice, perhaps encouraged by the mayfair, began to tear at the flesh of the bird. to the woman's silent inquiry, mona shook her muzzle gently and settled herself to the stone, prostrating herself along it. forepaws crossed, the girl glanced out over the vale; she did not wish to stare at malice and risk dissuading the widow from a well-needed meal.
yet mona became engrossed as the moments passed; truly delight had chosen a beautiful place, its budding verdancy apparent even from the height she shared with malice.