Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
He watches her, absolutely still in the way that only a predator seems to manage. There’s no rapid rise or fall when he breathes, his ears are faintly turned in her direction and his face is completely lax when she scoffs. He hadn’t made a joke. Her laughter was sarcastic.
The blue-patched mare’s voice resonates between the paper trunks, smooth and white against the overhead of such brilliant color. Winter light falls on them both, rippling with movement like faint dapples across her skin when she slinks closer to eye him even though he doesn’t move. His dark eyes follow her instead, drinking in the strange horse’s mannerisms as she sighs and he thinks how bitter she seems until the short introduction has ended, and the silence is left for him to fill.
Interesting.
“No.” He answers. He will not going looking for the girl. “Should I assume that you know her father, Sinner?” The shifter wants to know, his question more of a velvet rumble than words. The sweat drying on his skin irritates him in the cold. He itches to exchange it for another but holds his steady composure, much too invested in who might be lingering around Sylva these days.
@[Valdis]