Darkness was like an old, unpleasant friend, that was put up with in the first place because of the fact she had to deal with it every night, but whom she'd grown skilled at dealing and been greatly familiarized with more than she ever really needed to be. But in spite of this, (or perhaps because of it), she enjoyed working in the night air, that somber sense of all the darkness of the world enclosing and existing around her in what seemed like an alternate reality, the Earth covered by a thin black sheet that made all that was real in daylight seem like a mimicking impostor by pale glow. Even the great celestial body of the the moon seemed to just be the sun in a masquerade that it would lower by dawn; the sun's dress of heaven waiting patient to become azure blue once more, the diamond stars on the cerulean fabric of the world above likewise in silent anticipation for when, stretching and frothing, they turned into soft laces of clouds.

But, for now, all was settled in the mask of shadows, the world early in night's grasp who seemed to hush everything in secrecy of its identity, only the stray sound of an owl defying a tacit vow that silenced the rest of earth. In the quiet, however, things still moved; small creatures scampered hurriedly, fearful to be caught by the things that hunted them, and by contrast slow and deliberate hunters sensed the approach of their prey. Thus far, Lovetta had not been successful in catching any of those things that scurried about in the ebony of the young midnight hours, but with the night-life of all nocturnal or semi-nocturnal creatures ramping up as night strayed farther into its own depths, the hunter had little doubt that the Oasis would soon become a fruitful hunting ground.