Ravensblood Forest my eye on you

crowell bared his teeth, his grin wide and wicked, like the grin of a devil who’d seen hell and laughed at it. ha! a bite to match the bark, eh? he rumbles rough and ragged and shifts his weight. fiery eyes burnin' with the arrogance of a rogue who feared nothing—not even death.

an’ what of it, lass? ye think a limp makes me soft? nay.

he stepped closer, his grin turning sharper, a hint of madness in his eyes. ’sides, he drawls: ye wouldn’t kill me. nah, not a fiersum lil’ thing like you. ye’d rather hear me spin my yarns, hear how i took this limp fightin’ a beast twice yer size. aye, ye’d love that, wouldn’t ye?