the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Fennick continued to watch her with an expression he hoped didn’t betray his inner turmoil. He couldn’t read her face. Was she happy to have company? Or was she mad that she had been interrupted? Fennick felt his stomach sink. Maybe she was afraid of him. He did a quick inventory. Was he scary? He was large, and he was staring rather a lot.
Quickly he tried to muster a smile, but it felt forced. His brain was going entirely too fast. He knew he should say something but nothing seemed right. Finally after an awkward pause he forced words from his mouth, and they came out jumbled.”
“Teta.” He cleared his throat over the sound of her name. “Teta will be fine I think.” He wanted to bang his head against that tree she was standing under, but that would almost certainly scare her.
He glanced around uncertainly. Now that introductions were made, the sensible thing to do was to strike up a conversation. But what to talk about? He should ask her about what she wants in a home, and see if the Valley could be the right fit. He should ask her where she is from. Suddenly, a rather mortifying thought occurred to him. Maybe she wasn’t from anywhere, maybe she wasn’t looking for a home at all. Fennick felt the blood drain from his face. Oh god. Had he just interrupted some mare’s unassuming walk through the woods? Didn’t women hate that, presumptions? In a bit of a panic, Fennick rushed to find out.
“Are you alone?” Even as he said it he knew it sounded bad. She was bound to think he was asking so he could determine if it was safe to attack her, or to see if he could carry her off to his lair without a stallion coming up to fight him. Weren’t women afraid of that? Being carried off to lairs?
“I mean…do you have a home?” There, that was a little better, and seemingly innocuous. Certainly his intentions couldn’t be seen as too nefarious. Creepy perhaps, but that was a great deal better than nefarious.