"You...are a funny girl." Said the voice. Then, a dark figure rose from the fog. She was small, covered in black clothing. She had a veil that covered her face and her black dress was torn at the bottom. Her arms were thin and sickly as she grasped the dark black pitchfork in her hand. Her veil flowed behind her as did the rope that was tied around her neck. The two saw that her neck was bent in an unnatural way as she turned to them. "But...that humour will be the last thing I tear from your souls...." [spoiler]https://youtube.com/watch?v=R3FRSDjHnuA[/spoiler] The woman's body seemed to give off the smell of blood as red flakes came off her skin. She began to slowly approach the two, her pitchfork held her steady.