Monster who isn't a dragon. Or a kraken. Or a wolf. Or a snake. Or a tentacled horror. Or some kind of undead. What are they?
She's mostly a smile; the way the breeze moves the leaves, the way the wind whips your hair across your face. She's mostly the sense of dread at the bottom of your stomach; from standing too near the cliff's edge, from something dangerous passing too nearby. She's done this before; you've seen the bodies all red and shredded, you've seen whole swaths of land flattened. And you'll let her.