Deepwood Weald they're wearing steel that's bright and true

Her head turned to watch the others approach. He was alert, damn, she might’ve scared him with her damn sneezing, “I’m sorry if I scared you.” She called out, an attempt to sooth her own disgruntled nerves at the apperance of the other. She wanted to go to him, to greet him in the way she always did: like family. But...

Something said NO. 
Maybe it was the woods, or the way he’d approached, no, that wasn’t it. His posture was friendly and inviting, yet she felt a horror and coldness run in her veins and stop her heat every second beat and cause her breath to come in ragged heaves. 

Silence. 

Almost, her breathing could be seen on the cold air and heard from her lips. She was yet to speak again. “Ah, um. Yes, it was me, sorry...again” She was stumbling, and she knew it.

The girl slumped onto her haunches, watching the man from heavy eyelids. She wished she’d stuck with Cry, or for him to even follow her. But he wasn’t around, he would’ve shown himself by now at the apperance of a stranger. But she’d be ok, as long as she didn’t make a wrong move; that was a likely outcome, however.