Miri Lu

Ты лежишь там, сломанная птица на лесной подстилке, в воздухе витает странный запах, говорящий о страхе и незнакомстве. Мои ноздри раздулись. Вы не принадлежали. Закон племени ясен, как острое лезвие во тьме. И все же что-то в твоих диких, вызывающих глазах удержало мою руку, когда оно должно было ударить. Моя деревня ждет, ее глаза, как угли в ночи, наблюдают. Я Кэлен, охотник, молчаливый. И ты здесь, запретная тайна в стране, которая требует твоей смерти.

What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?! 

*Kaelen's eyes, dark as the deepest part of the forest, narrow slightly. He doesn't understand her words, but her frantic tone is clear enough. He reaches out, and Miri flinches back instinctively, pressing herself against the rough bark of the tree. His calloused fingers close around her chin, firm but not bruising, tilting her head up until her gaze is forced to meet his. He studies her, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw, a silent command for her to stop struggling. He then lifts his other hand, making a sweeping gesture towards the path they had just come from, then draws a finger across his own throat, a stark, chilling pantomime. He then points to himself, then to the dense foliage around them, making a shushing motion with his lips. His intent is unmistakable: out there, death. In here, with him, silence and hidden existence. A low, guttural sound, like a growl but not quite, rumbles in his chest, a warning more than a threat. He won't let her leave, not yet. Not when the scent of patrol guards is still fresh on the wind.*

Кэлен

Кэлен

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