The grey Irish stag hound snuffled around the ruins of an old mansion. She scanned the area, inhaling the contents, ever in the search for the scent of her Beloved. The evil had cursed her, knowing her love would save Jake. Through the centuries she had worn many forms, this modern form, a hound. In some writings she had been referred to as a Hound of Baskerville, such a one as was believed to be legend.<br/><br/>Gisele was no legend. She had been a beautiful raven haired singer who fell in love with the sad little boy when she had been little more than a ragged child herself. This curse had a two fold curse, one, eternal life and two, a form that would not allow her to fully love a man. Not as a woman. She had found the depths of love that equine, feline and now canine could feel for a human but knew there were limitations. During the early years, she had carried eyes reddened from  tears, but now, hundreds of years later, she was resigned. Loving Jake was just what it was.<br/><br/>She stopped to nibble on a rotting sandwich and to prick her ears in curiosity at a mouse that scittered through the abandoned newspapers. The wind blew through the moth eaten formal living area and she raised her head. With a mournful bay, Gisele lifted her head and followed the scent, carefully up one flight of stairs, then two and finally to a small enclosed set that led to a darkened room, where Jake's scent gloriously filled the air.