Shadow Mountain dig so deep for scars

@Scarecrow !!

This was her mountain.

Or, what remained of it. The nightstalker's lips snaked into a sinister grin - a cheshire cat's smile; she had caused such mayhem here, among the great boulders and tears in the surface of rock. Blood had been spilled, a thick crimson that flooded her senses with a rusty tang and tingled her spine with delight. She could hear them now, the chants and howls with the glimmering moon as witness - oh how horrified her brother would have been, trembling like a coward at her paws. Men, they could be such fragile creatures, couldn't they? Life, life itself was so delicate, like the surface of a browning leaf in autumn's chilled fingers. So easily cracked and torn. Perhaps that was why she loved to play with it, to tease and hold the very strings of existence in her own cracked paws, controlling her puppets with a simple wave of her foreleg and display of her incisors. Her wolves had been corrupted, but they were petty little things. Those nights, she had enjoyed them thoroughly.

The woman stalked the mountaintop with feline grace, a deadly prowl resembling a panther's dance guiding her way across the smooth and rough rocks. She did not pause to scent the air, nor did she gaze out across the land beneath her - no, she cared nothing for this world.

A short laugh fled blackened lips and echoed on the wind, a deadly ripple of menace that trembled and shook beneath the rocky ledges. When the world was cruel, there was only one solution - be crueler.