a twig snaps behind her, startlingly loud amid the quiet of the forest. the woman freezes, reaching instinctively for a blade that no longet exists. her heart pounds, breath catching in her throat. slowly, she turns to face the source.

"svalla?" she calls, voice heavy with hope and with dread. but it is not her svalla.

a man shuffles into view, half shadow and half beast. he appears just as startled to see her. broad, hewn of muscle and sinew, unmistakably male. he is no kin of hers. there is nothing familiar about him, no comfort to be found in his presence. he is a stranger.

disappointment tugs at her features, jaw taut. she had hoped that the next soul she came across might be one of her own. instead she finds only another wanderer, as lost and haggard as she. he reeks of desert sand, of pine sap and sweat and blood not long dried. whatever path he came by, it was not an easy one. even still, sympathy does not cloud her judgment.

"you are lost." the words leave her mouth flat and cold. not a question, a statement. and she does not offer help.

she keeps her distance, muscles coiled tight 'neath her skin. he is large, twice her size at least— and unsteady, but no less dangerous. desperation makes men reckless. she has seen it before. the way they will lunge, grab, take what they think they need without forethought. the man shifts, and eclus takes a careful step back. the forest is dense here, and she is small and quick. his bulk will not aid him if he seeks to chase her down.

her eyes flick over him warily. there is something off about him, a sense of being wrong that she cannot shake. he does not belong here, that much is clear.

still, she does not trust him. not yet.