Murmurs of the Long Night reach her before the threat of Anasta's Shadow will. Having just settled in the Immortal Duke after forging an agreement with its innkeeper, Dany finds herself out hunting in those last few hours before the lands turn red. It's not her favorite thing to do, but better to do that than fend for herself out in the cold.

Irriella, her red panda, trots ahead, snout raised high in pride... and Dany? She's got a few rabbits hanging off her whilst she struggles to drag a doe by its ankles.

"What good are you if you gloat, Irriella? Come here and help me."

Sorry ser or lady, but that goofy ball of fur is going to spin around and run straight into your ankles.

That was then, and now, hours later, she finds herself sitting by the fireplace in the common room of the inn. There are others scattered about. Some startle when a scratch echoes nearby; others tense when a howl grows louder.

When someone screams, she looks up. Irriella has burrowed herself beneath Dany's cloak, only her snout sticking out; she's trembling. For good reason, seeing as there's some strange red glow on the other side of a frosted window.

"Do you see that?" she asks you, "It--it looks like something's outside."

( a. no dying )
Her agitation grows with the passage of time. Days seem to creep along beside the nights with no way to pick either apart save the body's habit of settling. It's all a long, tedious, reddened haze, really. Maddening, she'd venture so far to say.

When the firewood threatens to grow sparse yet again, it's she who volunteers to fetch more today. And you? You happen to be her lucky partner in this trip. If you're bigger, you're on wood duty whilst she carries the torch, her fingers twitching as if waiting to pull an invisible trigger.

"I don't recall it ever being this bad before."

( b. heroic death option )
Stay out too long, and the screams will give chase. She notices movement beyond her torch, the skittering of footsteps, a heavy panting. "Best to move," she murmurs under her breath, "We're not alone."

No, they're not. For as soon as she says it, there's the cry of a child. The sound has her freezing to the spot, glancing back over her shoulder before, experimentally, she conjures an apple-sized ball of fire. It's tossed a few feet away. A test.