MELITA
Quiver on her back, staff in her hand, hunting techniques at the forefront of her mind, she was quieter today, intent on catching something useful for LongNight. For the prior entanglements of the month, the youth had been an utterly useless accoutrement of destruction and mayhem, never intending to become this way – monstrous heathen, some eldritch behemoth, crawling through the undergrowth, intent on chaos, bedlam, and demolition. Even now, there were still whispers of its upheaval, a twitch in her fingers, an ignition coiled somewhere along her mind – but she had no desire to remain ineffectual, especially when everyone else was reeling and preparing for the eternal evening.She thought the glade might still have a collection of animals still hunting for their own meals before the inevitable, and was content to meander along a rock, ducking down, then out of boredom, sitting upon its precipice. The youth didn’t quite blend in, not with Fangorn at her side, but with enough patience (unfortunately not something readily available in her blood), fortitude (always there, no matter how twisted and coiled she was), and perseverance, perhaps she’d be able to spy something to snatch.
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
But she's a forest fire
