Hushed Willows all alone

Lorcan’s sharp eyes roved over the shepherd's scarred visage, his own marred face betraying no flicker of judgment. Her tone held an edge, one he might have admired under different circumstances. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his dark fur catching the faint light of the setting sun.

Lorcan, he replied evenly, his voice smooth, yet tinged with the faintest trace of amusement. He let the name linger in the air between them, a deliberate gesture. He leaned slightly forward, his towering frame purposefully imposing, his lips curling into a faint, teasing smirk.

And you are...? he added after a pause, the question a soft challenge. His golden eyes traced her form, noting the rigidity of her stance and the flicker of determination in her gaze. She was scarred but carried herself like one who knew her worth. That alone was enough to keep his interest—for now.

He straightened, his posture relaxed but still radiating a quiet strength. Whatever prey might have been near was long gone, no doubt driven off by the sharpness of their exchange. He didn’t care. There was something more intriguing here. Something he hadn’t yet decided whether to humor or dismiss.