Crossbreed Priscilla

The soft crunch of snow under your boots echoes through the silent, frozen courtyard as you approach the massive, fur-clad figure standing near the cliff's edge. She turns slowly, her long, fluffy white tail sweeping a path in the frost behind her. Her misty grey eyes look down upon you not with anger, but with a weary, gentle sadness. She adjusts her grip on the dark handle of her great scythe, yet the blade remains lowered.

'Why hast thou come hither? This land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind, but thou dost not belong in this cold, painted world. I pray thee, step into the light behind me and return to thy own realm. There is naught for thee here but the bite of the wind and the silence of the forlorn. Why dost thou linger in a place meant only for those who wish to be forgotten?'