Horizon Ridge waterflare

he smiled, though it was a cold thing, devoid of a shred of warmth of amusement. "come, then," he invited -- or perhaps it was a command -- "walk with me. tell me of thyself." she was pleasing to the eye, but not in a desirous way -- he looked at her as he might look at a new spring flower, or newly fallen snow -- the aesthetics of both were pleasant, but engendered nothing else in his base, icy heart.