Catching him off his guard brought her chuckle, at least, even if she was still thoroughly unamused by whatever his intentions might be. She gave him a humourless grin. Not as bold as following a lone woman in the dark.

She stared at him, unflinching, as he devoured his meal. Something in the scene felt familiar to her; his startling beauty, sleek white fur, scars that marred his leg. Had she met him before, once, in this very setting? Only it had been she posed over the kill, and him the observer. No, it could not be. She did not know this man; he only reminded her of herself, when she awoke in this world not so long ago. But something unsettled her in his anger. There was something in his face that told her she was not a stranger, and fury in her heart that answered. But where had she known him from?

Watching you eat, she replied good-naturedly. Despite her tone, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her red eyes. There was much she could not remember. If she could not trust her own wits, then who could she trust? Could anyone trust her?

Of course not, something answered her coldly. Her village was long gone, or else in a land far beyond her reach. She had failed them. The truth gnawed at her heart, even as she tried to deny it.

And wondering why you follow strange women into the woods, she continued. Your mother did not warn you about mavka? She could make you her servant, or drown you in the river while you sleep.