Evening had always been Vaelora’s favorite time of day - when the cool touch of darkness greedily stirred the sun-beaten sky. With its indigo brush of shadow, the sky became a palette of churning colors - from orange, pink, purple, and blue. It was a kaleidoscope of new and fascinating shades, one that altered and transformed each and every day. No sky was ever the same, after all.

However, it was not solely the beauty that Vaelora enjoyed, but rather it signified a time when the wayward faces of poking and proding glares would no longer fire in her direction. Many, as she recalled, would take their wailing children out from the forest’s embrace and bring them toward the center of their home, which they had always perceived as safe, even if Vaelora had never shared the same belief.

—It did not matter in the end.

But what the evening did bring was a sense of solitude, safety, and comfort to the exiled woman. A time when she did not need to fear, and she did not need to hide. The darkness was her home, and the shadows were a steady, comforting embrace.

Perhaps that was why she had traveled to the pool of water with such confidence, believing foolishly that this world would operate much like her previous one had. A belief so cherishly held that when Vaelora stepped out toward that gentle sound of shifting waters, she had not believed anyone else would be around.

Until a voice reached out to her - deep, guttural, and sharp to her distrusting ears.

She froze - midlap - her tongue like molten lava and heavy iron as it hung unceremoniously out from between her lips. For a moment, her gaze had not shifted off that crystalline surface, that reflected nothing but herself, devoid of color, with eyes burdened with the curse of pink.

The stranger would get one look at her and either run the other way or come flying at her with a series of spit and sharpened teeth, she thought quietly to herself. And with either response, both would certainly mar what irrational hopes and beliefs she held about this new and foreign world.

She swallowed, the action alone like pins and needles down her gullet, as Vaelora finally raised her gaze toward his.

A silhouette of a man, angled and drawn out by the setting light, showed Vaelora enough of his weight and build to communicate what could lie in store for her should her hand of cards be poorly played.

Enough muscle to prove her escape difficult…enough distance to give her a head start.

I’m sorry— She sputtered out as that rosy gaze of hers landed across the yellow-green of his own, I did not know this land was claimed. Despite the softness that radiated from her voice, there was an edge held like a defensive knife hidden within the lyrical notes of her throat.

Her body tensed beneath that twilight sky as a singular ear curved toward the sound of the following words. How had he known? Had she been that obvious? Vaelora’s throat felt parched, even despite the gulps she had taken not moments before his arrival.

She backpedaled a few beats backwards, uncertain whether it was better to flee or linger in the face of someone unknown.

Is it that obvious? She asked, clearly her self-preservation at odds with her thirst for knowledge.

I promise I mean no harm, Vaelora found herself saying - as if such simple words had ever been listened to before - yet, there she went, trying again.