The Introvert of Thunder Falls

The air was coated in the thick mistiness of early evening - the sun having just disappeared behind the black-tiled rooftops of the buildings around her. The street was painted in deep blues and greys, the shadows shifting and silent. The entire world seemed to be waiting with baited breathe for something to happen. Above her, the first stars were just beginning to glitter in the deep purple sky. A silhouetted clouds blotted out the stars, a darker grey against the pale grey moonlight - but they were few and far between.

She was dressed differently, now. She wore a long black coat, made of a light material very much like leather, with a thick brown belt tightened around her waist. Black pants and buckled boots that rose almost to her knees wrapped her legs, the fabric tight to the skin. Her sandy brown hair was still tied to the back, with a few rogue strands swaying down her back as she walked, and she still wore the ring around her finger. These were, however, the only things that were the same about the young woman. Her eyes were narrowed, as though trying to pierce the darkness and cut through its darkest secrets. Her booted feet made little noise as she walked down the dirt road and out of the town, and no one heard her leave.

It wasn't technically illegal, but it would be bad if they did. Things like what she did weren't normal, and Sylvette Rose has learned the hard was that people fear what is not their normal. They wouldn't touch her - they couldn't touch her - but her business would suffer. She knew the whispers of witchcraft that would echo through men's minds and turn them away from her shop.

Witchcraft, she sneered - what bullshit.

She simply enjoys being near nature - in, nature. She loved the smell of the wild, without the slick coating of sweat and liquor. Without the smell of people. She loved the way the leaves crunched under her boot heels, and the birds brushed the leaves in their flight. She loved the way the grass sparkled in the morning, and the way the sun kissed the horizon goodnight. Most of all - she loved the waterfall.

So that's where she walked. With slow, quiet steps she made her way through the forest, careful not to disturb the animals who bedded down for the night. She was a tall woman; fit, and in the prime of her years; but she still knew that she was no match for the forest and its children. She no longer feared the deep shadows at the bases of the pine trees, as she had as a child - but there was a respect, instead. Her eyes travel between the trunks, searching for movement as she walks. One, she remembers clearly, as a child, she had seen a bear. A blackness only slightly darker than the forest which surrounded it, lumbering through the trees. It had smelled her, and turned in her direction. She would never forget the look of those tiny black eyes, shining from its long, furry face. They had been so strangely ... human. More so that some of the men she served at her bar, with their loud voices and glassy eyes. When they saw her, she saw surprise and a spark of fear, hunger and a territorial sort of anger. But above it all, that which made the animals eyes radiate - pride. A pride so deep she swore she felt it in her blood, coursing through her veins and turning her to gold. The animal was a king. Even years later, she still felt her backbone stiffen at the memory. She never knew what made the animal leave. One moment it had been mere yards from her, ready to charge. She knew, unequivocally, certainly, that it could kill her without a thought. And yet it turned, and left.

Before she knew it, she had reached the waterfall. The path broadened and faded into the edge of the gravel-bottomed water, and she stopped at its edge. The edges were washed with small rocks and foam, and the waterfall was a dull, familiar roar in her ears. The waves pushed unevenly into the shore, as if fighting against the forest which threatened to enclose on the tiny stone beach.

For a long while she looks down into the water, her chocolate eyes lost in the depths. When she finally glances up at the waterfall itself, she takes in a small breath. Just for a moment - there is something there. It is gone before she gets a good look at it, but she knew her eyes did not deceive her. A flash of movement, darker than the tumbling waters themselves, right near the edge. In sunlight, she would not have seen the movement - but the sky as overcast as it was, the figure vanishing was as apparent as the fingers on her hands.

Heeled boots crunching and popping on the loose gravel, she walked to the steep rock curve and looked upward. The water poured down the rocky embankment, leaping and frothing - a constant, thundering force which seemed to push her away. Reaching up with one hand, she wrapped her long fingers around an edge of rock. The stone was slick and cool under her fingers, but she simply tightened her hand and pulled herself upward.

She began to climb.