Deepwood Weald luto et nivis

lorcan watches her.

she sees him now—not as a phantom, not as a shadow come to devour, but as what he is.

just a man, he echoes, tilting his head slightly, the thin veneer of a smirk coming to pull upon a scarred face.

he takes a step closer. and then another.

just a woman, he says, and this time, there is something suggestive in his tone.

another step. close enough that the heat of his body may be felt through the cold night air.