Altar of Twilight bad company until the day i die

His very words explained the thick accent in which they were spoken. She thought briefly of the Lodbroks; weren't the Vikings from the north? Wildfire barely had time to process a further thought before he was commenting on her appearance. She squirmed inwardly, her misgivings growing by the second, but especially when he began to circle her. His eyes and voice betrayed a sort of admiration, yet Wildfire didn't feel flattered. She felt strangely stripped bare and vulnerable beneath the stranger's searching gaze. He was behaving as if he was a predator and she was some juicy prey.

Her eyes narrowed slightly when he stopped in front of her, asking for a name. "Attica," she lied, already feeling far too susceptible in this situation. He could stare all he wanted but he couldn't have her name, couldn't have her, for supper or whatever else he might be planning. The yearling swallowed, then forced herself to ask, "And yours?" She hated how he was making her feel, yet she was determined not to let it show (too much).