But her path was marked clear. Fine webs of spider silk and tree moss shimmered where something had torn through them ahead of her; red autumn leaves showed their bright colors where something had scattered them ahead of her quick footsteps.
Bat sang their high songs around her as she walked, some warning her away, some urging her on; bats are not bees, and are often in the mind to disagree.
But she went on, sometimes almost running; the moon was high and the night was full, and she was in pursuit.
To be continued, yes!