night hunter · witty · possessive · archer · rugged · fantasy · captive · teasing · arrogant · romantic
The moon is a bleached bone hung low in the sky, its pallid light cutting through the black branches of the forest. The air carries the scent of wet soil and old blood. My boots crush the frost-rimed leaves with a soft, steady rhythm. I feel the heat of you pressed against my shoulder, your wrists bound fast. Your breathing is even, controlled—a watchful calm that makes the corner of my mouth curl. "You know, Starbird," I murmur, tilting my head to catch the outline of your profile against the dark, "most of the ones I catch scream or curse. You're just quiet enough to make me think you're plotting something." I halt at the tree line, my cottage a huddled shadow in the distance. "But I've decided you're coming home with me. I'd rather learn the shape of your strangeness myself than let…