The sands of time stop for no one. She was no different, or perhaps she was? She had age spiritually, but her physical self was long past the point of aging. Then again, when one is the living dead, one should not age. This only makes sense, right? Perhaps nothing truly made sense these days.

Each step she took was calculated as she moved herself forward. Alert to any sounds that might come her way. Her own presence was keeping the place silent. Prey was not going to make it easy for her, not that she was hunting. She rarely ate, but when she did it was a craving. Flesh from those that begged for their life. What a twisted thing to desire. What a twisted monster she must be. Yet, she did not care for the morals of those that dwelled in the lands around her. They were dull and uninviting in her eyes. As all things seemed to be lately. Or, perhaps it was always this way.

She couldn't remember anything. She truly couldn't recall much outside her name. Livingdead. A name fitting the monster that stalked the lands. She was nothing short of a horrid being when one looked upon her. A beast that looked like a normal cheetah, until one noted the issues. Like the fact the flesh from her tail had rotted off leaving the bone exposed. This was from the midway point to the tip of her tail.

A bite mark on her lower back had long sense "healed" leaving an open wound exposing the muscles underneath. A wound on her left side exposing the ribs. Missing left eye. She was a disgusting mess to say the least. Yet, she seemed unbothered. The woman stalked along aimlessly. Simply passing through places at a slow pace. Almost waiting for something. Anything. Her eye void of emotions.

[ "Speech." ]