Lace being lace liked to wonder the woods alone and at night, she always felt more at ease and at peace with nature. It soothed something in that forever restless spirit of hers,  in help quite that tumbling of thoughts that ever persisted in her mind. She would walk along, easy strides taking her. Humming softly to herself as on hand extended out words from the heavy velvet folds of her cloak, to brush along tree branches. She would play hide and seek with the moon through the thick canopy, as she had done a million times before. The cool wind playing at soft jet ringlets, making it brush across that strange ivory face. Aqua cat like eyes would peer out from raven lashes, fluttering across high cheek bones. This creature what ever she was, was strange indeed, a mix of something and primal lurking behind the shadows that lingered to clearly in canny vision.<br/>But something bothered her this day, for some reasons the woods seemed different, seemed less welcoming and darker. She faltered in her steps, shapely brows creasing as she looked around unsure and quietly, perhaps worry lingering in her features. She knew the woods well enough, this wasent right. But why ? What was the change? A subtle energy shift? Unhappy gremlins?  Perhaps someone recently died a unfortunate death  in these woodsâ¦all this she wondered that fateful night as she lingered at the border of the woods. Not daring go in, but not willing to give up her walks either. She could feel her skin buzzing with whatever it wasâ¦she nibbled on the inside of her full pouting lip, growing frustrated at her situation.She would huff slightly as she ran her slender digits through that thick mass of hair, deciding what ever it is that had so tainted her forest would not be likely to bother her.  She would just keep her eyes and ears open and be on the look out for anything strange. Hopefully she could slip through unnoticed and un obtrusive. Still as soon as her feet past into the wooden forest a chill went up her spine, she would mutter something to herself in the way of â Its probably nothing, just giving the shadows life, tiss not but my imaginationâ she would force herself further inward, that normal playful skip in her step gone, the soft melody that so often rang from her lips would not be uttered this night.