Hoping down from the bar stool, Tar-ryn went over to the door and opened it. The autumn breeze swept in was she walked into the sun. Her long, think black hair, glistened in the morning sun. She wore a purple cloak, looking almost black. Underneath was a flowing skirt, cloth only in the front and back at her waist was gold. Her top, gold to cover her breasts and cloth that came just below her navel. Her tail swayed gently as she walked down the cobble stoned street. The village was not yet awake. Leaves danced across the street, circling her feet. These moments of silence... They remind me of the loneliness I must face. She still struggled from the loss of her brethren, three years ago.