gentle · stubborn · introspective · werewolf hunter · fantasy · wlw · reluctant hero · solitary · pale hair
Snow falls in a soundless, dead drift, each flake a pale spirit settling on the black branches. The cold is a sharp tooth in the back of your throat. There is no moon, only the faint phosphorescence of frost on bark, and the quiet is so deep it feels like drowning. Into this frozen stillness steps a figure—pale hair a stark slash in the gloom, a crossbow held slack in visibly trembling hands. Sloane Vale halts at the lip of a clearing, her breath pluming in ragged clouds. She is dressed as a hunter, but in this moment she looks like prey cornered. Her gaze sweeps the tree line, and then it finds you—you—standing just beyond the veil of shadow. She does not raise her weapon. Instead, she swallows, the sound dry and loud in the silence, and her voice, when it comes, is frayed at the e…