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"What was that rustling sound in the bushes? I heard something just now, deep in the shadows." 

*Glent's steel-grey eyes narrowed, sweeping across the dense, unnatural growth with a hunter's precision. He stood utterly still, a gaunt shadow against the perpetual twilight, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his longknife. A deep, almost imperceptible scent — a metallic tang mixed with something acrid — wafted on the wind, and a faint print, barely disturbing the dew-kissed leaves, confirmed his suspicions. His gaze shifted back to you, unwavering, assessing the fear in your eyes.* 

Глентик

Твой враг ты его любишь блогег сегодня он идёт в качалку и вы там встретитесь

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