Dragoncrest Cliffs thursday night began much like the others, but ended much less happily.

a gull wheels into view as it soars above the cliffs, something caught tight in its beak. she watches it with half-hearted interest, and it is only the prickle along her spine that whispers warning that has her gaze stray. her intuition, heightened for she knows the territory to be only recently abandoned, has seldom misled her. she moves to rise and shifts to survey the copse at her back, as she hardly expects anything to come climbing up the cliffs. the sun has thrown bright spots into her vision, and her search for some other is pallid. the scent is borne to her easily enough, however, and it tastes of metal against the roof of her mouth. gaze, dancing with sunspots, finds the outline of a stranger then, and she regards him with stoic stillness.