Under the red moon you'll find her, near the crossing ways of the withered woods in which she lives. Draped in raggedy threads adorned with bone, twig and thorn, dear Hilde feasts on wormwood and woodlouse foraged from the forest floor.
Long bony fingers dig deep to reveal... she never shies away from what lies decaying on the damp, dark earth buried under leaf litter and snail silver.
Exhaling her quiet song through the hollow of an old bone she wanders the woods as silent as the gathering mist, eyes gleaming like midnight pools in the darkest hour of night.
Hilde Of Mossenbone is a solitary soul and has emerged from the song of the wild woods, born of dirt, leaf, fungi and moss covered bones.
A mouse skull, tiny twig and thorn adorn her skirts of hand dyed muslin, vintage silk, felted wool and a bustle of moss.
Hers is a bodice of swan feathers,
etched on her throat is a waning crescent moon as red as blood,
down her sinewy spine trails a sickle shaped bone on dark red thread.