Great Bear Wilderness Take me to church,

Lorcan pulled away, intrigued by the way she spoke of fear as if it were an abstract concept, something that hovered just beyond her reach. There was a sharpness to her words, a depth he found oddly compelling. Lorcan, he replied, his voice smooth, with an edge of warmth that belied the chill of his thoughts. And as for gods... well, they hardly spare a thought for us, do they? No divine intervention to save the weak from the claws of fate.

He paused, the memories of his mother flickering in his mind, the lessons she imparted woven into his very being. In the end, it's our own choices that determine our paths, not some celestial puppeteer pulling strings.

His gaze flicked to her, studying her closely. You speak as if you’ve known the weight of loss. I understand that pain. It lingers like a shadow, doesn’t it? And those of us who feel it often find solace in the darkness, in the thrill of life’s most primal instincts.

With a slight smirk, he leaned back, his curiosity piqued and surefooted. But enough about me—what name does one so captivating carry? I’d like to know what to call the little shadow who dances on the edges of the night.