The Floodlands i shall fear no evil

she stops very suddenly at his 'no,' fear rippling through her. all is well. slowly, her ears swivel backwards to catch the sound--the incongruous sound!--and she turns, eyes still on the ground, to stand facing him again. he is. . .is her master, and she will do his bidding, whether it comes in a voice tinged with kindness or with ire. the former is strange, though.

the girl winces slightly at his question, knowing she will have to answer--but that her response, if truthful, will give her away. a lie to a man, though, would be an even more egregious sin. addison, sir, she murmurs, letting the two words and four syllables fall to the ground like rain, cold and small. i. . .

addison turns her eyes to his face, though focusing on a spot just south of his left ear, upon his cheek. please, sir, i beg of you. . .don't tell anyone i was here, she pleads softly, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. i know i am in no position to command you, nor ask any favors. . . i only ask that you show me mercy. please forget you saw me here, hunting.

her blood is filled with ice. not the good kind, either, the coolness that kept her above the rest. it is the sickening submission that came from somewhere primal, hammered into the genes of odolfs for generations. it is all that she has ever known.