The Wall Toome

green eyes narrowed, his body still as he processed her words. your kind. what kind? what people? his brow furrowed as a flicker of confusion cracked through the cold veneer of his expression. she spoke as if she knew him, as if his name carried the weight of some great wrongdoing, yet he’d never seen her before today.

what people? he finally rumbled, his voice low and sharp, the confusion edged with irritation. his gaze followed her as she retreated to the spruce, clutching her prize like a feral creature unwilling to yield her share. his teeth bared slightly, but he made no move to pursue her. not yet.

she was bold, that much was clear, but her disdain was misplaced—misguided. i don’t know you, he added after a pause, his tone cold, but lacking the usual bite. he truly didn’t. whatever shadow of memory she projected onto him, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t find a tether to whatever hatred she carried.

his eyes lingered on her as she watched him from her distance, her cerulean gaze laced with disgust. he let out a sharp exhale, not quite a sigh, and turned back to the kill. if she wanted answers or a fight, she would have to do more than fling curses at his back like snowflakes in the wind.