007 hid behind a tree, watching the other side intently. The two people there seemed unaware of her presence.
In the dim forest, a woman resembling a witch extended a withered hand, her fingers almost as thin as the thinnest dry twig 007 might hold. They looked dry and stiff, as if they would SNAP if bent even slightly. At this moment, this skeletal hand was tightly gripping a soft, tender one, its fingertips still tinged with pink. The contrast made the witch's hand look even more emaciated. The other tender hand belonged to the woman standing opposite the witch.
Since the woman's profile was turned to her, 007 couldn't get a clear look, only a vague outline.
With just one look, 007 was filled with admiration.
Is she a princess from a fairy tale? She's so beautiful! Even a glimpse is enough to perceive her striking beauty.
007 knew that "striking" wasn't the best adjective to describe beauty, but she couldn't think of a better one for the moment.
