So the electric lass turns and walks, satisfied and convinced of victory; one of many presumptuous souls soon to know the true horror of their haphazard crossing. The peaceful, calming crackle of the embering fire is quickly betrayed, and the woman's joy put to the test when a monotone, masculine-yet-feminine voice pierces their ears.

[b]"Where are you [i]going[/i], O woman... do you no longer want to [i]dance [/i]with us?"[/b]

Should they turn there would be no speaker, only a woody [i]crack[/i] of the burning tree split in twain. Then a smoldering hand latches onto a smoldering section, pulling a should-be corpse forward as it brings the other arm up and stabs the earth with Japanese steel. Hisame, bald, nude and flesh aflame; her head down, crawling over the destroyed tree, driving the blade into dirt once more while they pull themselves over the wood toward clear ground. A silken female voice dominates the form's icy, raspy whisper. 

"[i]Play with me-e-e-e...[/i]"

The fire breathes, erupting like fountains of flame to block the body from view. Only for a moment, however, for they fall to reveal vacancy. Hisame, or so one would call them, is vanished from view.