[AW] little ghost, so forgotten and small

[Acton]

Acton whatever you feed me I'll feed you right back   Her gaze on his was almost painfully blue, the sky over the ocean after a storm, reminding him of another’s. But there was no anger, no violence, in these eyes – only the kind of fear that does the opposite of make him feel bigger, more powerful. Acton wondered then if he had looked the same, as a colt: half-starved, fearful of shadows and light both. If he had, then it was brief; it didn’t take him long to learn to fight, to plan, to wipe his bloody noses on his shoulder and give as good as he got. It was that or break. The buckskin didn’t wonder yet if she had broken. Don’t, she breathed, and Acton stopped. He said nothing as she scarfed the apple, only kept his attention half on the stall merchant, inhaling the sweet scent of the fruit as its skin split, baring pale flesh. A few moments and it was gone, and she was stepping after him – Soft as a spilled secret, he heard the chime and sigh of her chains and paused, looking down. He said nothing, only lifted his gaze to hers and then away, but he knew what it meant perhaps better than she. They were active docks, there in Denocte, and many things were traded in the dark with the moonlight trembling on the sea. The thought of it made something cold and hard turn over in his belly, and he licked his teeth and walked on. Now they were less alone, though still anonymous in a stream of bodies, and he did his best to guide them through dim torchlit paths without running into others. He kept an ear trained on her, and grinned at the long pause in her answer. Acton snuck a glance at her, and found himself fascinated by the way she studied her own body as though it was new to her. As though she didn’t know it at all. “If you say so,” he said when finally she answered, arching a brow at her. There is something a little bolder the next time she speaks, and his grin doesn’t vanish at her question. He whisked his dark tail, flicking it against her side, and watched their shadows mingle on the gleaming cobblestones as they wound between more stalls. “I’m Acton,” he answered, “and I haven’t decided that yet. But first, I think, we’ll find you something to eat. I’ve seen skeletons with more meat on their bones.” A few lengths ahead, he spied a merchant he knew, selling bowls of warm bran sweetened with honey. He shifted that direction, and then paused and turned toward the girl. He did not blink before those oceanwater eyes, and he did not wrinkle his nose at the salty tang that clung to her hair, the sweet-bitter brine that made him think of his days as a boy winding through a distant harbor. He only leaned in close, and held her gaze, and let the smile fall away from his mouth. Echoing in his ears was the sound of her chains; he did not see that they were covered in rust like old blood. He did not know they were only memories. “You are safe with me, but I need to know, now, if someone is searching for you.”  @Isra <3