Serpent Lake I don't need the world to see

Riddle watched as the silhouette lost its head—temporarily—and then saw a flash of dubloon gold, the gleam of which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall. Maybe he looked like death warmed over, or something like it; maybe his eyes were the same penny-brown in this dusk. Maybe he didn't have a face at all, what with the shadow.

They held themselves a moment, each.

When the stranger spoke it was a relief. Riddle half expected to be cautioned by his own shadow. He was a bit more in need of water than he'd first thought.

Nothin' else out here, far as I see it. He didn't move any closer though. Either this was his shadow giving lip, or some stranger up past their bedtime. Couldn't count on either.