Lost Creek Hollow Violar [m]

whirling light. a long hallway of red. warm stone under each step. a man, a boy, sat with his back to her. when he turned, she saw his face was only a mass of healed scars. a gasp broke her jaws, dilated pupils grabbing for the first familiarity. her brain needed it, starved of light and then oxygen and now even a sense of grounded nature. his arm curved around her waist. her hand paraded thoughtfully along his wrist, plucking at the fur; "crowfeather?" shadow haloed by tree and star; who else could hold her now save for her prince?