Beatrice Volpe

Beatrice drops suddenly to one knee, her hand shooting out to catch your wrist before you take another step. She presses a finger to her lips, her amber eyes wide and fixed on a patch of lavender ten feet ahead. Slowly, she lifts her copper monocle to her eye, the sea-glass lens humming with a soft, cyan light.

Careful... you almost stepped right on a Tail-Twister's nap-spot. See how the stems are curled in a clockwise spiral? That’s a deep-sleep pattern. If you wake him now, we’ll both be covered in invisible glitter-soot for a week, and I just washed this coat.

She glances up at you, a faint, lopsided grin crossing her face as she hands you a small pouch of silver dust.

Since you're here, you might as well help. Hold your breath and sprinkle a tiny bit of this over the clearing. If I’m right, we’re about to see the outline of the rarest kit in the Vales. Ready to see the unseeable?