Mariposa

Nimble fingers tangled in matted hair, toying with the knotted patches as a frigid gust blew in from the west. Her flesh was cold and her fragile body racked with innumerable shivers. Digging her bare feet into the mush of soil, she silently kept her eyes transfixed on the steady tears dropping down from the concave of a leaf to splat on the surfaces of a small rock patch.
"Here", he cooed, cautiously nearing. She didn't look up. Gingerly, he wrapped a tattered green towel over the most promiscuous regions of her naked body so as to eradicate hypothermia and temptation. Seven years brigadeering the maleficent wilderness and his thirst ran incomparably strong. And so he'd restrain.
She said not a word as Lucas slowly backed away, only flashing a minute, gracious smile at the rock patch and drawing the towel closer around her torso. The ragged holes revealed innocent patches of flesh but what the towel revealed, her grotesque hair concealed. It fell in ominous, tangled tendrils like a merciless, murky waterfall urgent to swallow up it's victims, brittle and tinged green like moss. It was probably nice at one time, but whatever tribulations this maiden endured left her wary and unpleasant. Her eyes were void of any semblance of vivacity, inflicting the internal tremors of cold, squalid homicide, and were framed with dark circles. Her rounded face stayed void of emotion until Lucas's eyes burned flaring holes in her presence, analyzing her every feature. But no matter how horribly he wished to look away, his focus was epoxied to her disgrace. Sharply inhaling the burnt odor lacing the air, she furrowed her brows and squeezed her eyes shut tight, her chapped mouth drawing itself taught. When she opened her eyes, she met hsi gaze with an ochre glare that willed him to stagger backwards a smidge more. But he would not leave her be.
Timidly averting his eyes from her murderous stare, he searched the damp ground for the proper vocal release. Finally, he brought his fist to his mouth, softly cleared his throat, and reunited with her eyes. "Do you, um...do you have a name?" he stammered, his face blushing red. She gave no answer. Lucas stood before her uneasily in unverified silence as her grimace ruptured his noble facade, fueling the blunt tension. The longer the silence reigned, the more he expected her to pounce. It was when he swore he caught her muscles tense beneath her pale, papery skin that he deduced it best to escape. With a grin of unease, he recoiled slowly and cleared his throat once again. "Well, um, I'm gonna, uh...I'm just gonna go, you can stay here or, uh, do what you must. It was a pleasure meeting you, I'm glad I could help, but I think it's for the best...", Lucas spoke, mustering all his strength to abolish the waver in his voice. By the end of his statement, she lost interest in him and bade her attention to the droplets once more, gifting him with the perfect opportunity to escape. With trembling limbs, he turned and fumbled forward, swiping the foliage away to shimmy beneath the brush. Just as he was about to dive, though, a distant sound caught his attention. A growl, low and wispy, like the lyrical moans of vengeful ghosts or slow-rising coils of robust cigar smoke: deep and raspy. Knitting his brows in confusion, he slowly wheeled around to face her again. Her back was arched, her sharp, pointed nails digging into the dun terrycloth. Her glare grew piercing cold.
"Mariposa...", she growled again, this time more audibly. She accentuated each syllable almost Hispanically. Catching the bewilderment in his face, she rose from her perch with uncharacteristic imperiosity. "My name is Mariposa...", she snarled, her towel falling to greet her ankles. She spread her arms confidently so as to better reveal herself; strange, cryptic writings swirled across her skin like crop circles in flesh. With a grin of malice, she continued, revealing dentures of fangs stained with blood, draped with flesh. "...and I do not render kindness."