The moonlight stretched out its cold limbs with abandon, gliding effortlessly through the dense canopy, lightly treading on the soft carpet of fallen leaves and soil, tracing the outline of each leaf and the towering form of every alder. In this night that was far from serene, within the blood-mist forest drenched in an eerie atmosphere, a pair of youthful feet, slightly arched, moved gracefully across the earth, stepping over leaves and twigs, dancing elegantly around a pond that shimmered with the moon's silver reflection. It was a dance performed for no one.

These delicate feet belonged to a young girl, her body bare to the elements, displaying her lithe form and graceful movements to the wilds. By the edge of the pond, a large, tawny toad sat, half-submerged, with the water lapping at its warty back. It watched the rare performance, captivated. Perhaps the girl's dance was too enchanting, for the toad did not croak. It simply stared, wide-eyed, entranced.

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In an instant, the girl grew tired. She halted her fervent dance, and as she untied the ribbon from her hair, she slowly walked towards the pond. Startled by her movement, the toad blinked its dry eyes—parched from gazing too long—and retreated back into the water with a sluggish splash. The girl crouched by the pond, her reflection gazing back at her—youthful, beautiful, with long black hair cascading over her shoulders. Then she smiled, a playful, vibrant grin—how lively and mischievous it seemed. That is, if one could ignore the blood trickling steadily from the corners of her mouth.