Shadewood kiaruk ❂

For once, it was her who caught him unaware. Tending to ripping up a bramblebush by jaw, he was stuck chewing the harsh and bitter wood stems until he could fight to the heart of the thorned bush, chewing away at it in the warming dawn of morn. It took all morning to whittle this burden away, and just as he snatched the final artery of bush free, the voice of heaven’s gate called him from home. 

Keeping the idea of the tossing the bush in some hideaway dugout for a potential trap or torture chamber, he set it aside, and made way for the harp.
Arriving with a speculative stare, it wasn’t until he realized who had come knocking once again that the judgemental face fell away and was replaced by a crisp and professional charade. Or was it?

Nearing her, but refusing to cross his borders and trudge into the wetlands upon the Isle, the shadow looked upon the cream and ivory dame, and said nothing. He had nothing to say to her- it was her who chose to leave, not he who kicked her out, after all. But he did study her- looking her up and down, running an automatic analysis on her being to see if she had ailments, or was alright. To see if she was-

His brain rushed a sentence free, breaking through the mush that tried to settle amongst feelings that he told himself repeatedly that he did not have. “Where is your husband?” It sounded more of a demand than the sneer his pride wanted to sick forward. He wasn’t focused. 

Wasn’t ready. For what? Her? Her answer? The truth? Or an assumption?