#thewildgod

Fysia was less than lucid as she moved aimlessly through the night, her path staggered like that of a drunk man's. She sang softly to herself a song about a castle and a rose that lost part of it's meaning when she mixed her English with her native tongue.

Eventually she stopped, sinking down against the wall of a building closed tight for the night. She drew her knees close to her, as if to conserve warmth, and continued to sing her patchwork song. 

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I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!!!! I BELIEVE I CAN TOUCH THE SKY! I THINK ABOUT IT EVERY NIGHT AND DAY! SPEAD MY WINGS AND FLY AWAY!

Dean was seated at the bar, slowly sipping away at his whisky as we went though some local articles about strange happenings. Most of it seemed like carp, but these were all the leads he and Sam had on the case. He decided tomorrow he would go check up on them and figure their stories out. The shifter they were looking for was good, almost too good. All it's tracks were covered perfectly and rarely was a trace left.