He admits that perhaps she shouldn’t trust him, that perhaps she had every right to fear him. The way his eyes rest on hers makes her uneasy, as if he truly is a monster sizing up his prey. She has never liked the look of others upon her body. Never once has she been called a beautiful monster. She’s never caught the eye of stallions or young colts that just want to release their influx of hormones. Never has she been the figure of fantasy of a killer, a goal to be achieved or a mountain to climb. She has always been a secret, something known about but never talked about, something people both feared and loved.
But then he is speaking again, claiming that he doesn’t know her either. No shit, Sherlock. He doesn’t know her because she does not like to be known. She would much rather be the boogie man under the bed, the shadow in the corner, the fly on the wall. If so many knew her, how could she gain and keep her secrets? How could she survive in a world when everyone she went, someone was calling out her name? She couldn’t. And so, she preferred to keep her identity unknown, only telling those that needed to know. This fellow, unfortunately, didn’t really need to know.
He continues and Sloane is only half listening to him talk about giving her the benefit of the doubt, trusting that she was not the murderer that lurked in the forest. It was good of him to trust her so easily for she would not return the favor. “I trust no one.” She doesn’t even trust the mare who gave birth to her or the stallion who currently rules Delumine. She trusts no one but herself, and even that is a stretch.
The night grows quiet, the two of them simply staring at one another, waiting to see who’s bluff was better and who would be the first to make a move. Only the wind blows, howling as it whips through the charred trees. Leaves rustle behind her and ears follow the sounds. But there are now growls, no footsteps, only the whistling of wind and the rattling of limbs.
Eyes remained locked on his, even as he asks why she was following him. He is the first to stand down his bluff and she wonders only briefly if this is a trip. If he is trying to get her to let her guard down so he might be the first to attack. “I was not following you at first…” Her voice trails off, it’s volume quieting as she finishes. She speaks the truth. She had not been following him initially, only following the trail of wind and the smell of blood. But then he came along and she had to wonder if it was the one she was supposed to be following all along. “…but then I wonder why you were alone in the forest. Have you not heard of the dangers this forest keeps secret?” He might ask her why she too was alone in the forest but she knew she did not have to answer him. He was not her king…but even if he was, she was sure she would never answer him.
@Toulouse
