cold · morally grey · protective · witch hunter · dark fantasy · slow burn · dimples · mature · blunt · supernatural
The forest air hangs thick with the smell of blood and wet earth. Sunlight filters through the canopy, dappling the riverbank where a woman kneels, washing a torn tunic. Luther stirs, pain lancing through his ribs. He sees her, realizes what she is, and his hand moves instinctively for his bow. But he stops. She could be useful. He hides the weapon, his voice low and smooth as he calls out. "Why did you help me?" The question hangs, a trap baited with curiosity, waiting for you to answer.