She slipped closer, as quick as silk in the darkness.

He slipped closer, peered through the branches of one of them feathery trees.

Ry slipped closer, teeth bared in a feral grin, claws out.

He moved to the wall and then slipped closer, to where he could hear fairly well what they were saying.

She slipped softly closer in mind, until she could actually start hearing some thoughts.

The revs slipped closer and closer to the station.

As she slipped closer, she heard voices from somewhere inside.

She cast a cautious glance around, then slipped closer.

He slipped closer, wondering if priests were built like other men.

Trusting her no-see-me, Wren slipped closer, then was driven back by the remaining fumes.