Fairspell Meadow Bon-voyage

The scent was pungent. It swept through the meadow as a plume against a backdrop of summer blossoms, with the baked grass smell predominant. Much as it drew the child out of hiding it would draw Stryx along, although she was not in such dire need and so her approach was more lethargic. She had been hiking this way for some days and was hungry; she had less interest in the foliage but kept an eye out for familiar bits and pieces all the same, unable to break the habit that had been worked in to her during her training. She spied tangled vines climbing up the base of trees (most of which looked pathetically withered in direct sunlight), a patch of young squash vines maybe. They would not produce anything until summer's end. Maybe she would mosey back this way for a sweet treat in the autumn.

It was the sound of chewing that made Stryx pause and focus her attention again. Plants could not devour you - not with teeth and certainly not quickly - but there were plenty of other creatures in this unknown wilderness and so Stryx would have to remain alert. It sounded like it came from somewhere low, close to the earth. She thought of wolverines foremost. It was too far south and much too warm for those creatures, though. As she prowled closer other creatures came to mind: skunks, stoats, raccoons — so when she finally caught a glimpse of the corpse and the small bundle of vibrant fur tucked in close to it, she was surprised.

It was a child. Could have been born during the passed season. Striations of gold gilded the bundle, encircling them in a faint aureate glow. Stryx had been frowning as she'd come close but now she felt the expression melt from her features. She didn't say anything outright - not wanting to alarm the child - but began to hum a soft little tune to herself, loud enough for the child to hear but soft enough to seem indirect. Stryx investigated the other side of the carcass as if she hadn't even seen the child.