A man who saw how Eva had staggered along the lonely path smiled to himself. The night was quiet, the forest road dimly lit by the dying moon. Her steps were slow, unsteady, an easy prey, must have been a damsel in distress easily tricked as her neck was deep in sorrow.
He fixed his hair quickly and arranged his expression into one of false concern, the kind of worry that masks hunger. "Miss, are you alrigh—"
Yet his words hung without ever completing as a shadow moved before his eyes, vast and quick, covering Eva from his sight at once.
The peasant frown at the tall figure that had stepped forward, his long coat of pitch-black fabric whispering against the ground.
At first he was upset, wondering who dared to take his prey but then he froze.
