Bramblepoint sleep, little darling; do not cry

A big, pale mass of a man. She thought of Viinturuth first, panic rising in her chest as she realized her father had sent him after her. She wheeled around, shaking her head, nostrils flaring wildly—

No. No, it wasn't her uncle.

He smelled of Brecheliant. And worry.

What? Lilitu asked, trying to make her way through the brain fog. She squinted at him, licking dry lips. You—what? Looking for someone?

It was Viinturuth, looking for her.

Her breathing came quick and shallow, and the fur along her spine began to slowly rise.