Bitter air hung about the parapet as if a vulture circling a corpse carefully that night. The moon was empty, making the darkness somewhat thicker in the autumn evening. It suited the thief just fine. Her breath was shallow and it made small puffs of mist pass the lip of the cowl she wore. Against the wall, as if taunting the intermittent light that crept warily from the torches lining the wall, the accomplished burgler weaved. She dodged the guard's droopy eyes. She ducked past windows. Lithe and flawless the vagrant's fingers and feet transported her up the crinkled castle wall towards her destination. The steam burst more frequently from the cowl, as if a steam-powered automaton scaled the wall, no human. All of her life the silent brigand had been twisted to this task and her mind detached her from it, the body moving instinctively, wordlessly, robotically. The thief's exterior had been cold and smooth to all outsiders. A perfect untouchable form. Few knew of the warmth, fear and dread that always lay below the armour. Senna Sharptail moved towards her destination in the keep, passing a small flame. She didn't notice it flicker a deeper shade of blue...