She sits outside in the freezing rain like a demon, eyes aglow and as still as a Roman statue, the soldiers are on the march, she's unbothered, all will die here, her camel is eating the soft grass, her Duchess crown is a pale gold and amber and stained with the ancient blood of demigods, the sky has turned a milky pink and the rivers are red with slimy blood, she has lined her territory with the severed arms and legs of invading armies, the forest animals have all ran away, a lovely, plump maiden sleeps in the bed by the flickering lantern, it's the quiet in the field before the war.
The fangs appear, and she screams throughout the mountains, frightening the soldiers, she is awake and breathing heavily, she will hunt them down, one by one, sparing none, some have fled, the pops of weapons and small billows of smoke, she has climbed a tall tree and is perched there, scanning her terrible horizon, watching the small discolored bodies of the soldiers act in confusion and terror, she will swoop down like a hawk and take one, vanish into the dark clouds and drop his decapitated head as a warning, and then at daybreak, she will scream again, and the real horror will begin.