Thick fog swirls around the ankles of the beasts that wander here, the soft flutter of moths all around, though they cannot be seen. Skeletons of trees, and bones of old in the shallow waters that lap against hooves and paws. In the quiet, damp whispers of the swamp there are voices, speaking softly and all at once. This is a sacred place, a peaceful place...
A soft green glow appears in the mists, the soft sounds of steps in water. A doe emerges, a face marked with a permanent skeletal grin, though her actual expression seems quite somber and stoic. Her eyes are aglow, blinking slowly at the visitor. A moth matching her colors flutters overhead.
For a moment, she says nothing, merely looking the buck over, standing there with her head held high, posture still and perfect.
"...What is it you seek?" She asked, voice holding a smooth timbre, soft and deep despite her rougher exterior.
