Something captures your attention. Not a sound or sight, but a feeling, raising your fine hairs in awareness. Someone is near. You look up. A figure moves away from you, her long gown shimmering white in the intermittent slivers of moonlight. She slips with ease through the dense forest, like a whisper on a cool breeze. You glance over your shoulder only once before following, drawn to her mystery. You are close now, almost near enough to touch. She turns, the corners of her lips lifted in invitation, her beautiful, dark eyes beckoning. The witch chuckles to herself as she flits away. Another, so easily, falls into her trap.