the woods are lovely, dark and deep
He is staring at me. He has been staring ever since he found me, and I don’t know if he means to be obvious or not—but his gaze follows me like a hungry dog. I feel its weight; the intensity with which he looks at me, his eyes sharp and blue as a blade made of sapphire.
I know it won’t be visible under the dark-red satin of my skin, so it doesn’t embarrass me as much as it normally would. But it’s still unlike me—the fact that he makes me blush. My face grows tingly and warm, and I feel the heat rise into my cheeks. I duck my head to my chest for a moment. The crisp, cold air comes in to nip at me, and the contrast of it against my now-fiery face sends a little shiver through me, from my flickering ears down to the wave of my tail.
Crickets sing around us. Their voices are shrill and clear and sweet over the sound of the rustling grass; the whispering leaves; the beating wings of birds.
Would you like to decide the universe, Ms. Katerina?
Instantly, unthinkingly, a smile flashes over my lips. My steps slow. I fall almost to a standstill, and tilt my head up, almost defiantly, to meet his eyes as evenly as I can. I see moonlight pour like silver over the fine lines of his face; I see the curl of his dark lashes, the line of his mouth in a brief smile, the ice-blue flash of his eyes when they catch the light.
For a moment I forget what I am going to say. I lapse into a quiet stare, calm and still as a deer, turning the thoughts over in my mind.
“If I were a god,” I tell him with a coy smile, “I would have seen to it that we went on a walk much before this.”
And I am serious. It should be visible in the way I look at him—my eyes wide and earnest, my mouth just faintly curled upward, my expression solemn but not cold.
“It’s late, Mister Pravda.” I swallow against the knot in my throat; my face is growing hot again, and this time I worry it will show. My gaze drops shyly. “Goodnight.”
I press my nose against his shoulder, just for a moment. His skin is warm and soft; he smells like the forest, and like the library: cedar smoke and book-binding glue and something dusty and sweet. I recognize it. I recognize it so strongly, so instantly, and so alarmingly that I jerk back like I've been shocked.
Then I pass him a smile as an apology and turn back towards home.
