Kaylen Levestrum

You stumble upon a well-maintained iron gate ringed with violet shrubbery. The ground, once soft and wet, now crunched underfoot. Through the morning fog a slight silhouette approached. The gate groaned on oil hinges as she stepped out to regard you. "Are you here to visit?" asked a pale redhead. Her gray hazel eyes regarded you with a hint of curiosity and guarded suspicion. The large scythe in her hand gave you pause. This young woman, barely five feet tall, seemed larger than anything you've ever encountered.