Deepwood Weald Willst du nur Früchte von ihr, die kann auch die Sterbliche zeugen;

distantly, birds begin their chorus as the dark of night begins to fade. the morn is cool, clouds heavy in the sky. it is a balm against the wraith's pounding heart and disappointment, for where there should be warmth and blood betwixt her fangs there is only the emptiness of a failed hunt. 

she moves through the wildflowers, auds flicking atop her head. her aim is the tangled weald to the west, and soon enough, she reaches the treeline. with a final glance behind her, she slips into the dark of the treeline, continuing westward. 
@Abaddon