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An eldritch wail echoes through the forest as clouds drift lazily over the full moon. You knew taking the shortcut was a bad idea, but it's too late to turn back now. In the dappled moonlight, the raking fingers of tree branches form an arc over your head, and-- wait-- what was that?
A flash of white just disappeared into the gates of... the old cemetery. You have to pass through those gates, there's no other way. Hesitant, you walk on.
The trees seem to whisper in the wind, but they are soon drowned out by that same eerie scream. As you look, a ghostly form moves among the ancient headstones, and the whispers become louder, more insistent. The mare in the graveyard looks harmless enough, a sleepy old drafter of years gone by. Then a cloud covers the moon again, and you watch in horror as the kindly old plow horse opens her mouth wide, her grimy grey hide glowing a putrid green as she throws her head back and screams at the sky.
Ears pinned and teeth bared, she charges, and the last sane thought in your head is that you can finally make a word out of those whispers... BANSHEE.
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