Ossa stretched lightly as she walked across the grass, leaving no visible marks of her passage, as to not disturb the delicate pattern she had made in the grass, cocentric circles spiralling outward, marred only by a sandy path to the center - in the middle of the clearing, her home, was a spring, too small to be much use to a herd or a lone soquili, but to the small Quilin, it was perfect. The spring splashed onto mossy rocks, round which she had laid smooth, rounded stones, the occasional jade one peeping out from it's brown, less interesting cousins. Her flickering fetlocks curled lazily, contentment seeping throughout her aura as she lay down, the grains of sand still barely disturbed by the Bone Lady.
