Hushed Willows all alone

The willow branches swayed gently in the breeze, their soft rustle providing a near-perfect backdrop to Lorcan’s idle hum. He had been lost in thought, the rhythm of his melody reflecting the tranquility of the grove, when her scent hit him—a stranger, faintly lupine but undeniably different.

His dark figure moved with practiced silence, his steps calculated as he closed the distance. When the woman came into view, he paused, taking in the sight of her. She was an unusual creature, her Anatolian build evident in her broad shoulders and sturdy frame, though softened by the more familiar sharpness of her wolfish features.

Lorcan’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity. Far from home, are you? he drawled, his voice rich and teasing, though it carried a subtle edge. His posture was relaxed, yet the tension in his muscles betrayed readiness—a predator gauging his company.

He moved a step closer, the weight of his presence pressing into the space between them. Not many wander into the willows alone. You’re either brave—or reckless. Which is it? His head tilted slightly, his gaze unrelenting as he awaited her reply.