Neverwinter Forest But we see it, the rest of us. And we lie.

The woods had been quiet lately, quiet enough Belharra began to think it was time to move on. She had grown fond of the little grove in which she resided, and after some early morning contemplation, decided maybe making it her home base for the rest of the winter wasn't such a bad idea either.

She hadn't run into the mouthy guy that had the nerve to attack her, either. While it was too much to hope an avalanche had swept him up or a tree had fallen on him, Belharra amused herself with imagining all sorts of poor fates befalling him. It got to the point as she wandered through the woods marking her little corner of the world, that her voice could be heard singing a soft ballad through the pines.

It would have been a sweet melody too, if it weren't for the lyrics.. which went something like:
"oh, he was a good fellow known to some
and of poor repute to others
wives oft hid when he was around,
or prayed for their fathers

on Cotter's moon one afternoon
he met his maker by the mountain
and from his head spilled blood instead
which gurgled like a fooountaain  --"

And on and on, but you get the picture.