Fairspell Meadow I

She is moonlight, Vasya replied, his tone almost affronted that anyone could see her otherwise. But, yes, he had gotten a name. Medusa, the white witch. She lives nearby; I know it.

But there was something in this young woman's voice that caught his attention. His pale eyes looked her over, tongue running over his canines beneath his lips in contemplation of what she could offer.

Drawn as he was to the witch, he was still just a man.