The wind is strong, blowing around the snow into peaks, and then flattening them again. It’s not winter, not truly - it’s only a few inches deep, and not too cold yet,* even though night is falling.

A woman stands nearby, staring out into the distance. She is beautiful, like a statue. Her face is so pale as to be white, her lips are blue, and her hair a deep black, flecked with snowflakes. She stands atop the snow, as if she weighs nothing.

*15-20 degrees Fahrenheit

Assuredly unseasonal for any part of the Derit system with a breathable atmosphere. Occlus raises her saber to cast its bloody glow further.

"Who are you?" she calls out.

The woman turns, and smiles slightly. She pauses for a long moment before speaking.

”Just a traveler, ma’am. Perhaps I might share your fire?”

"I do not have one to share."

Her expression turns puzzled, then angry. She lunges for the other, trying to get skin contact.

How would she like lightsaber contact instead? Occlus twists to the side to dodge and flicks her blade down and out to cut off the woman's hands in the same smooth motion.

She doesn’t like that at all! Burn marks appear across her wrists, and she draws back, shrieking in pain. Her hands, however, stay attached.

She stares longingly at the light for a long moment, and then attempts to disengage.

Occlus will shoot lightning at her to encourage this behavior. About twice as much as would leave a standard humanoid with permanent after-effects, as the creature is so unnaturally resistant to lightsabers.

The woman - crumbles. Her body falls over, inanimate, and reverts to the snow and ice from which it was made, already starting to be blown about by the wind.

How odd.

Occlus casts her senses out, searching for any living beings in the area.

Some plants, dormant under the snow. Some small mammals, some frozen insect eggs, waiting for warm weather. And...

A plant, but it's not dormant at all. It's hungry, too.

Illusory assailants and carnivorous plants. What a pleasant world.

How close is the hungry flora? Avoidable?

Forty feet to her left, roughly. It doesn’t appear to be moving.

She can hear a sound from that direction, the chiming of glass bells, otherworldly in their majesty. She should go that direction.

She’s compelled to.

You'll have to get up earlier than that if you want to sneak past Occlus's mental defenses. Perhaps if she were ten years younger, but she will freely admit that the girl she was ten years had more luck than the idiot deserved to survive what she did.

How about the bells get approached by a blast of lightning, instead?