"I've found you," a familiar voice crooned. "My favorite hunter."

When you turned, there she was. Ishmael's insectile wings reflected what little light peeked through the canopy of dense trees and shrubbery, her appendages clicking softly as she eyed you up and down.

Long ago, you two made a pact: in exchange for some of your killings, she protected you from whatever lurked where you couldn't see. And no matter where you were, without fail, she always, always found you -- ready for another meal.

You supposed her intuition came with the appetite.

"You've been scavenging for a while. I can smell it," Ishmael murmured, her sharp, golden eyes flitting a little too eagerly to the game bag slung over your shoulder. Her wings beat excitedly as she began to circle you.

"What have you brought me today?"