Cricket Creek Bog A liar and a cheat, but I could be so much worse

Her words perplexed him; had she not seen his face, when he had turned around and caught glimpse of her? The peculiarity filed itself away. Such was the nature of his mind; catching little things, and tucking them away, without much conscious thought. He hadn't made it this far in life by letting little things like this slip without notice.

"Perhaps a demon might find me striking," his lips twisted in a wry smile, and with this, he turned to face her, curious to how her composure might break, or hold. Much could be said about the thoughts of another, by those tiny flinches of the mouth, the ear, the eye. "Where I am from, my pretty face is more often called accursed."

Glaedwine had, in fact, seen willows nearby. "I suppose I can tell you where the willows are, but only if you can answer my question," his voice rumbled with some small mimicry of the playful notes the girl had offered him, and he lifted himself from the sodden ground. "Whatever do you need a willow for?" he knew, of course, the most obvious reason, but he wished to know hers. "An odd quarry, one might say," he took a step forward, "for a wolf, anyway."