Ravensblood Forest torture saints with a single glance

the woman slows at the sound of an approach, falling motionless when the male appears betwixt the trees. gaze follows him, critical, as he nears. fit, a few inches taller than her, though something unnamed distorts his features, and his tail seems wrong, twisted. a flick of her ear constitutes her response, the woman's gaze returning to meet the male's. "who are you?" 

voice is cold, expression detached. carefully, imperceptibly does she shift, collecting her week on her healthy limbs and making stiff her spine. in her state; unable to defend and fight as she once had, significantly weakened by healing wounds and the vigour of her escape, she does not which to waste time in deciding whether this male is a threat to her ow not.