The burnt surround held something different this time; a once consuming flame which hungered for the breath of a tainted life force. The winds change, heading south over the peaks and brushing the tips of frosted tree tops in Bloodile’s Forest….”It’s dead Flee. They died that is it. I can’t bring them back” The young angelic voice took the others by surprise, Never had she taken the blame for their actions. “The last wish is alway the worst...ain’t it?” this time she chuckled before standing buck up straight. The young girl's’ skin was designed to survive this type of test. The silver lines of ink tattooed on her chest, thighs, torso, arms, and face. A woven pattern; aged, tattered, and torn ever so slightly under the hemline was stretched
