Imaginaricide

The haunting call of an owl slid through the night air, blending into the ambient noise of the darkness. The trees, standing silently on each side of the small dirt path, rustled restlessly as a cool breeze disturbed their leaves. The shadows twitched and danced, creating and instantly destroying images which flickered across the ground. One of the shadows fluttered and stretched outward from the tree line, but failed to dissipate as its brethren did. The soft moonlight struck the shape, spilling over its now-apparent contours, and revealed it to not be a shadow at all; rather it was a small figure, draped in a long black cloak and making it