Each day this world had something new and beautiful to show her. Asiel had busied herself with watching as a slug, gray and speckled, crawled up the peeling bark of an old tree. It moved slowly, as though it was in no rush in spite of its short lifespan.

She had watched it for a few minutes, attentive to the way the slime gleamed on its back and the trail left behind caught the sunlight. How pretty, even down to the most minute detail! Perhaps not many would call it so, but Asiel could not help but be enamored by the little thing.

So much so that she did not notice the hushing of the forest creatures or the padding of unsteady feet through the undergrowth.