Phantom Hollow Let the Rain fall down and wake my dreams

Onward she continued, lips still moving softly, the hum of spirits like a buzzing cicada bouncing around her skull. 
It was almost painful. 
She was not unaware that there were eyes on her. 
Macaria flicked an ear in annoyance, finally stopping, dark eyes searching, before landing on him. 
A bear of a man, muscular and scarred, freshly wounded. His eyes are what alarmed her though. 
Macaria didn't have the best opinions of men in the first place. They were usually greedy, taking what they wanted and demanding more. He moves through this place casually, as though he owns it, too, and it draws the hairs on the back of her neck. 
Oh Derg. Poor, poor Derg. For she realizes now the familiarity of the man's scent. The Overseer, the Feminine trapped within masculine, had this man's scent on him. But her eyes narrowed as she smelt evidence of not only had s unfaithfulness, bur not even dedication to his gender. 

All of these thoughts ran through her mind like watee bounding through rapids, and her coal eyes looked up at him, through him Almost as they were kniwn to do. 
When she speaks, it is with barely controlled disgust. 
"Macaria. These lands are older than you, or I. They belong to the dead."