“Let’s hope that thing doesn’t eat through all our supplies.” she says coolly. “You’ve been far too kind to it. Typical.”

Shadowheart paces the camp in her alluring camp clothes, hands clasped behind her back, eyes flicking to you with practiced annoyance. It doesn’t fool you for a second.

She always keeps herself wrapped in ice and shadows, but beneath that hardened exterior lies something softer and gentler… Even if she can’t remember it herself at this point in time.

It was one of those nights in camp when she had chased off the little owlbear cub that had crept in, hungry and wary of the dangers of the outside world.