Footsteps thud dully along the rough, mountain path. It is late evening, the sky is a blaze of oranges and reds, the sun is obviously setting. Zeria, like usual, didn't know where she was or why she was here in the first place. The young girl has but one companion, her familiar, a wolf named 'Xandarick'. The canine walks alongside Zeria, ears twitching with the light breeze that passed. Xandarick seems to be enjoying himself, free to wander the wilds. He paused every so often to sniff at a trail left by some animal. However, Zeria does not have the same sense of freedom and enjoyment in simply living. She is more down-trodden, and that scar upon her face only makes her look all the more sorrowful. Not that she can help being the way she is. She has no past that she can recall, and always has some voice in her head, one that laughs at her every misforutne and constantly reminds her how scarred and lonely she is.

One hand rests at Althaol, her scimatar, as she walks. Always ready to draw the blade at a moment's notice, even if there is no danger appearant. Zeria is simply one who is always looking over her shoulder. It is something people are always accusing her of being crazy for. People are always telling Zeria she is simply not sane. But they don't hear those voices, instilling doubt in Zeria and haunting her in her sleep. If they could only hear what Zeria hears, then they too would know that those voices are all too real. However, Zeria doesn't know who or what has their mind linked to hers. And part of her doesn't want to find out.

For the moment though, Zeria simply takes to continuing her walk. She knows that she should find a place to camp out for the night, before it gets too dark to even see. Then, her thoughts are interuppted, at a low growl from Xandarick; and an noise behind her. Drawing her scimatar and quickly turning at the same time, mercury eyes scan the treeline trying to catch some sight of whatever may be lurking out there.

Taint slides silently behind the odd red-eyed creature he had spied during the day. The was little life in the mountain range to feed on, and Taint was becoming low on energy.

He decided to bide his time until nightfall came, and his energy would be restored, when the creature wheeled around on him, causing him to instantly react and shapeshift into something which he had consumed before. The first thing on his memory was what he consumed last, a simple patch of grass. He mimiced the look of the dying mountain grass perfectly, just in time, as the creature he had been following turned his gaze on him.

Nothing there. Absolutely nothing. Zeria could've sworn she'd heard movement, but now she didn't even see a shadow or a footprint, or anything marking the trail before her. Zeria tightened her grip on her scimatar, if only to stop her hand from shaking. The canine ather side was still crouched low to the ground, in attack mode. Xandarick was ready to pounce, ears flat against his skull and teeth bared.
"Xan ... Xandarick. Let's keep moving."
Zeria leaned forward slightly, placing her free hand on the back ofthe wolf's neck, pulling him back somewhat.
"If there's something there. Its not going to show itself. So ... les go find a place to camp for the night."
With a soft whine, her familiar slowly turned. However his ears will still tuned in to the spot behind him.