It had been nearly a century since she had last set foot outside her dominion. True, she had strode almost every inch of her own territory countless times. And true it was probably a dangerous move to appear in person..but confirming The Traitor's demise was necessary and with Tabitha in the Northern Snows, it fell to her to deal with the matter.
But as she walked amongst the fallen, shattered and still burning remains of an 'Airship', it was becoming increasingly more evident that The Traitor had not been aboard. A disappointment, but nothing that came close to being insurmountable. Tabitha was unrelenting in her hunts, after all.
The Witch took a breath, and came to a halt. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the twisted peace of her environment. The Mistralli Wilderness was what they called this part of the land. She smiled faintly, it was comforting in a way, to hear such a familiar name for a nation. Mistral was the oldest of the current nations of the world, She recalled. Nearly fifteen centuries of existence, more or less. It had produced a number of her greatest servants over her long life, and when the time came to remove it from the map, as with countless nations before it, She would endeavour to remember Mistral.
But as quickly as it had come, the time for contemplation came to an end, and she closed her eyes. Her loyal beasts, her Grimm, came into being all around her. She raised a hand, and gave the command.
"Feast."
Her beasts rushed to obey. Once, she supposed that such an order would have disgusted and horrified her. But if there ever was such a time, it had long since faded into the mists of time and from her memory.
She began to depart and leave her creatures to their work, before something caused her to come to a dead stop. Something wholly unexpected.
"F-Father!"
Not something...Someone.
How had there been a survivor? Curiosity and intrigue bloomed within Her. She had ensured that survivors would have been impossible.
And if there was anything that piqued her interest, it was impossibilities.
The call came again and again, drawing Her closer and closer. She reached a mangled mess of metal and glass. She tore the metal plating away, and tossed aside the unmoving body directly beneath it.
The child was small. Red of hair and green of eyes, much like the corpse that had been covering her. A Father protecting his daughter, perhaps? How sweet. A mite foolish, given their location, though. A quick death would be more merciful for a child than being prey for the Grimm.
The girl was shaking. Terrified. Not entirely unexpected, given what she had suffered through in the last few hours. It would be kinder, She noted, to end her. To let her have the eternal rest that She herself was denied…
But she had need of a child.
And so, with that simple observation, the girl's future had been decided.
"Well well." Salem finally greeted the girl with a faint smile. "What have we here?"