Firefly Glen where the wild things are

She matched the simplicity of his greeting with her own, something he could apprectate. Then came a question, to which he nodded.

Are you? One could assume she was not, given her appearance. Nearly filled into age, but not quite. Lómion half expected her kin to come out the woodwork, to sweep her away. He glanced one way. Maybe he'd meet another pair of eyes in the darkness. He did not.