Her thoughts are like an animal?s. They come in scraps of imagery, usually due to some instinctual need. Lately, there is only one need present. It is a persistent, all-day, all-night, longing.

Mother.

The progeny desires to make more of herself. The progeny desires kin.

She had them once, a long time ago. She is not completely an animal. She does have a memory. She does understand the concept of time.

Vyndra remembers when she was called Cressida. Vyndra remembers the one her Father called Brother, the one who cared for her before he died and she left.

Most importantly, Vyndra remembers the one called Mother.

Vyndra remembers she smelled of sweet wines and electrical storms, even after her Father altered her so that she might bare his child.

Vyndra has tried to bare children, has tried to mate with every sort of man and beast the realm has to offer.

All have failed.

Her Father has failed too. He is dead. Death is the ultimate failure.

The more recent past is one Vyndra wishes to forget. She happened upon a clan of demons in the far north, back in the days she wandered. She took their name, Tsamblac, and joined their ranks. Her stoicism, her strange ways, mattered little to them. They enjoyed her bloodlust. They reveled in her appetite.

But for all that reveling, Vyndra did not bear fruit with any of the Tsamblacs.

Vyndra was at a loss.

?I know how you will bear a child,? said the mystic of her clan. ?You must find the Mother, the one who bore you. You must put a piece of yourself inside of her. You must make a copy-child. When the time is right, you will know how.?

Vyndra?s red eyes only held great question marks, but the mystic held up her hand.

?A wild eyes child of the Sun. You can find her in the Elsewhere, and I will give you a way to step through.?

The mystic drew a path of lines on the floor. Their patterns and their symbols have long been forgotten by Vyndra. Though her Uncle taught her language, she did not learn to read, but in any case, it is unlikely that the mystic?s symbols were in any sort of common language used today.

?You will dwell in reflection, in water and in glass. You may steal her thoughts to speak, to disrupt, to catch her off guard. Then, in five months time, you may step through??

The mystic placed a great round mirror in the center of the symbols on the floor.

?Five months to find her. But be warned, you cannot step through prior to this time, even if you do find her, and you cannot step through after. Five months to the day. That is all the time you have.?

Vyndra nodded her great round head and started to advance. The surface of the glass glowed orange, then red.

?One more thing,? said the mystic as Vyndra?s feet disappeared into the mirror, follow by her shins, her knees, her thighs?

?You will feel the pain of hunger in the Elsewhere. You must feed immediately when you exit, or suffer a quick death.?

Vyndra?s face was solemn and severe. The mystic only laughed and bid her adopted kin farewell, good luck, and most of all, a happy hunt.

And the hunt has been more or less happy, though she is at times crazed by starvation.

She has found her, the Mother.

She baits her.

She waits.

The time is fast approaching for Vyndra to step through.