Deepwood Weald Willst du nur Früchte von ihr, die kann auch die Sterbliche zeugen;

too late, does she see the intent in that dark-rimmed gaze. his step is met with a stillness of her own, unwilling to give ground, and then he is a charging ghoul. she is off-balance, stumbling as his fangs dig into her shoulder. her muzzle swings around, fangs grabbing for hold and snapping on empty air. again, a desperate grab of her fangs. she is untethered, forgetting to fight with anything besides instinct, struggling still to gather her limbs beneath her.