Damien
The stars hadn't moved. Or maybe he hadn't. It was hard to tell anymore.
Damien sat up in his cot, sweat clinging to his skin despite the chill that came with the mountain wind. The others snored, the soft rumble of a dozen lungs layered into a discordant lullaby he couldn't surrender to. Not since her.
Not since he saw those eyes.
He shoved the thin blanket off and swung his feet to the dirt, fingers knotting in his dark hair. That moment, barely more than a breath in time, kept replaying like an echo trapped in a canyon.
She'd been there, crouched low in the shadows like some forgotten spirit of the forest, her eyes reflecting the moonlight with a glow that didn't make sense—like violet fire.
And then she was gone. Silent. Swift. Wild.
He rubbed his hands over his face and let out a quiet curse.
"She wasn't normal," he whispered into the dark.
A rustle came from across the tent.
"You're still up?" came a low voice—gruff with sleep and gravel: Alaric. Broad, bearded, and unshakable, Alaric was more than Damien's best friend. He was the steady hand on a trembling bowstring.
Damien hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I don't think I've slept in three days."
Alaric sat up slowly, the cot groaning beneath him. "Still thinking about the girl?"
"That wasn't just some girl, Ric." Damien's voice was low, urgent. "She moved like she didn't belong to this world. Like she wasn't even part of it."
Alaric scratched his chin, already used to Damien's late-night obsessions, but this time something in his friend's voice made him pause.
"You said she didn't speak?"
"No." Damien shook his head. "But she looked at me. Not just looked—she saw me. It was like… like she was trying to decide whether I was prey or something else entirely."
Alaric raised a brow. "And you're not just romanticizing some feral girl running through the woods?"
"I know what I saw," Damien snapped, then exhaled. "She was barefoot. Filthy. But somehow... ethereal. Like the forest wrapped around her, claimed her."
"And those eyes?"
Damien turned toward him, voice low. "Glowing violet. Not like an animal's reflection. They lit the dark."
Alaric stilled, his easy smirk fading.
"Glowing eyes…" he repeated, serious now. "That's not something you forget."
"I can't." Damien's jaw clenched. "Every time I close mine, I see hers."
They sat in silence for a long while, listening to the soft crackle of dying embers outside the tent.
Then Alaric spoke, voice careful. "You ever hear those old stories? The ones the elders used to whisper around fires? About the forest spirits? Wildlings? The 'Touched'?"
Damien scoffed, but only half-heartedly. "You think she's a myth?"
"No. I think she's why those myths exist."
He met Damien's gaze. "Maybe she was born out here. Maybe she's part of something we were never meant to find. Something ancient."
Damien didn't respond. He was remembering the way her fingers had hovered over the coals, the way she'd studied the hunting gear with confusion—as if she didn't understand what they were. Her nose had crinkled at the scent of metal.
"Do you think she's alone?" he finally asked.
Alaric gave a slow shrug. "I think she's survived this long without anyone finding her. That takes more than just luck. Maybe she's got a pack. Or maybe she is the danger out there."
"Then why didn't she hurt me?"
"Maybe she wanted to," Alaric said quietly. "But couldn't."
Damien turned his gaze toward the flap of the tent, toward the endless dark.
"I need to find her again," he whispered. "Not to catch her. Just… to understand."
Alaric gave a long sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. "I knew you were going to say that."
"Come on, Ric. Don't tell me you're not even a little curious."
"I'm more curious about staying alive," he muttered. "But yeah… I'll admit it. She's not something you see every day."
"No," Damien said, eyes still far away. "She's not something you see twice, either. Unless she lets you."
And deep in the woods, behind the cold hush of night, he swore he felt those glowing eyes watching.
Let's switch back to Anecia's perspective for the next chapter — not only to mirror Damien's haunted wonder with her own confusion and instinctual pull, but to show how the encounter shook her just as deeply. We'll let her wrestle with unfamiliar feelings: the strange warmth in his eyes, the curiosity stirred in her bones, and the wolves' warning growls echoing in her head.