Barrow Fields fire and life incarnate

she danced through the meadow carelessly, her body a flickering flame; the whispering caress of each blade of grass was hardly noticed as she went slipping through the sea of green.
the scent of the sea was not foreign to her, but it was not common either; she missed the clean smell of home, though, and found the taste of salt unappealing to her palette. still, there was a charm.
there was a heavy animal scent here, too. the herd she had been following had some younglings ripe for harvest, and this is what drew her across the field now, seeking and hungry. the flame caught upon a bank of exposed stone and lowered herself to meet it, poised for the chase.