Bearclaw Valley Single file, like soldiers on a mission.

There seemed to be many cogs turning in the boy's head as he thought about what she said. It was not often that she would give such a direct answer to a direct question. Usually her answers were filled with riddles. In the priest's mind, it was better to make others think for themselves. Still, she could see that with having said some, but not all, he was drawing conclusions of his own and that was precisely what she wanted to gift him.

He averted his gaze when she looked at him, and she wondered if he was afraid. Funny, to think he was afraid of such a small and frail creature, but it showed his respect for the spirits. Perhaps there was something to teach this boy, after all. Perhaps he was not entirely like all the other mortals. The priest was used to being feared in this way; she had many times, even from when she was a small child wandering the depths of Blackfeather Woods.

It is wise to fear him, maybe, she said eventually, as she finished rearranging the items. Then, after a short pause as she looked at the boy, a smile came upon her face. But it's much more fun to revel in him. The mortal world meant nothing to her, so why would she fear any of these things -- blood, destruction, hate? He should be the same, but she did not know if he had it in him to be. Perhaps it was simply how one was born, or not.

She was born this way. Most were not so lucky.