The young huntress ran about in the night. Through the fright and frosted blight and the arrows daggered moonlight. Through snow frosted grass blades dead in the moon night, she dove and she darted and sailed through the knight. A Knight Hunter, with the ice, iceborne, of the frost, a true ghast, a permablock of ice hardened in night's embrace as a flock. She tucked away quickly and danced among shadows. She made way towards the Church, once more. For Father Jerad, she would go a hunting.

A hunting she would go, the lone wolf hunter, in the snow. With new gear she had been bestowed, good blessing from winters soltsice known. She blessed it from above, enchanted by light magics. Eventually? She'd a cross. But for now, she'd settler for snackage. A baggage of taggage and sometimes red cabbage. Green cabbage and bok choky and carrots and chayote. Herbs were abound, to make plenty of stew. The ill were all around and many new not what to do. She set about helping, as she had last time here. She darted about, using her speed to help and be here. To hear and be here and to lend a free hand. A hunter's path forwards, even against the dark and dismayed.

She set out for the flowers and left the church behind. She reached in her pockets and turned out in kind. A coat that adorned her, a bunny ear head dress. She jumped, six...meters? Everyone gasped, truly, they had been jest. Six whole meters she had cleared, as soon as she left the church. Descended up the church, she landed like a crow among the window before immediately jumping again, dagger in hand. A bunny battle stance for sure, one to be tried and true. Exhausting yet rewarding, a lucky sack witch brew. But it will always do, she thought to herself. It was truly amusing. How smoothing and yet loathing and luring and confusing. How controlling and slowing and swallowing in self loathing could become throwing it and lowering it and blowing it and smothering it and destroying it and smashing it until it was all covered into pieces.

And then nothing;

She went out into the night, her bunny ears adjusted just right. To the delight or the dismay of those that watched her flight, she jumped six meters high, that was two floors of a building, with ease. With grace, as though it were nothing, she descended through the city. She took to the skies and left it quite quickly. Never flat footed, always crafty, she was a hunter in the night. Born of dagger, born of cloak, born of bunny ears and anti fright. A seeker of darkness born of the night winter's ice, a cold santa's dagger to chill and to smite. A twitching knife coffin to...

Oh? She landed from a jump. Down from a tree she landed on a stump. In the winter's dead ice, in the forest outside, a flower she'd been sent for. She gathered it now. A bushel, she got it. She ran all about. She gathered up a baskets worth and headed back out. Up she departed, jumping to the branches. She scouted ahead with her bunny jump and made way back to the church. She gave the flowers about and took her rewards from the search.


568 words

Plus...speed