Herbalists' Cache lamb to the slaughter

This was the farthest she had strayed since her advent upon the boisterous borders of Swiftcurrent – luckily (or perhaps dismally) for her, not a soul would curiously wonder nor fret of her disappearance.  She held no attachment to those simpering swine-blooded counterparts of those rocky shoals; nor did they feel particularly inclined to harbor a fiber of amiability for her.  Upon the beatific apices of nightfall she meandered without care into the labyrinthine forestry of the fruitful coppice.  The eventide provided a sweetly chillier atmosphere which placated the heat beneath her untouched flesh – a fever which threatened at times to plunge her already brittle psyche into a miasmic dream of ghouls and frightfully agonizing memories.  The milky light beginning to bathe the landscape could not fathom shining its effervescence here, the density of the entwining branches a fortitudinous barricade above that denied any source of precious vision.  Everything transformed into an amalgamation of shapes – spindly specters writhing in the shadows, alighting her suspicion and demanding her caution.  Had she not heard his heavy footfalls – an ogre sleuthing through the trees – she would not have seen him.  Though when she did, she is not startled, but instead offers a disgusted, haughty sneer towards him as she endeavors to sidle around his unsightly, disheveled person.  It was due to her accustomed, cushy living that she knew no fear – but she would. 

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

phone post, it may be slightly sloppy <3 heeee