Little Red

Chapter 36

A visitor? 

I don't get to dwell further on this information as I sense something moving in the trees. 

A girl walks out of the dark forest.  She has dark hair, the color of a starless night.  It hangs down to her waist in thick waves.  Her tanned skin has a healthy glow that speaks of hours spent in the sun.  Her deep brown eyes are sharp as they sweep across the field quickly, and a lazy smirk rests on her full lips.  She takes confident steps towards us. 

As she comes closer, I weird feeling erupts in my chest.  I start to sweat, a hot sticky feeling that leaves me on edge.  It takes a moment before I realize that the mystery girl stands a few feet in front of us now.  For some reason, her presence makes me uncomfortable.  

Yet, Demitri seems completely at ease beside me.  I want to ask him if he feels anything strange, but his composed demeanor gives nothing away.  

Neither of them attempt to speak, and I stay quiet as well.  I take the opportunity to observe her closer.  She's shorter than I initially thought, maybe 3 or 4 inches below me.  Her dark curls are windblown, as though she's been traveling.  Her brown orbs are wide in a child-like way, and she looks to be in her late teens; yet, she gives off the air of someone who's lived a great number of years.  They dart around continuously, seeming to catch every small movement.  Her nose is small and button-like, and the surrounding area is dusted with small freckles - adding to her youthful appearance.  

She has an athletic build that still manages to appear lithe.  For the first time, I notice her clothes.  They are warm, neutral tones but unlike anything I've seen.  They resemble something you would see on a Native American in a history book, rather than a modern day teenager.  I am also surprised to see that her feet are bare, besides the small beaded anklet on her right leg.  

The longer I stare at her, the more the weird sensation in my chest grows.  By this point, I feel almost threatened by her.  Demitri squeezes my hand, and I nearly start, having forgotten myself for a moment.

"Demitri, who is this?" 

I'm surprised to hear a different voice ask the question, as it was the same one I just asked myself.  

I turn to him, waiting for an answer.  

He doesn't miss a beat.  

"This is Ara, my mate and the Luna of Dark Night."  His voice is matter of fact, and straight to the point.  

I turn to observe his expression, but he's not giving anything away. 

I look back to the girl in question.  She meets my gaze head on, tilting her head to the side as she looks over me.  I grow more uncomfortable, but refuse to avert my eyes. 

Beside me, Demitri groans.  

"Don't do this."  He says, but I detect a hint of resignation in his tone. 

She ignores him and proceeds forward until she's slowly circling around me.  

Instinctively, my hand reaches for the dagger concealed in my cloak.  Whoever this girl is, I don't like the weird vibe she gives me.  There's something in the air around her that I can't detect.  It's almost suffocating as she moves even closer, her hair lightly swishing against me as she moves.  She circles me like prey, but her eyes twinkle mischievously and her body language is non-threatening.

Who is this strange girl?

"Who are you?" I ask, although it comes out as more of a demand than a question. 

She laughs, a tinkling sound - almost a giggle.  Her smile radiates - it's almost painful to look at.  

"I am known by many names," She muses.  Her voice is airy and pleasant to the ear. "The Russians call me Aleksandra, the Greeks Amynta, the French Alexandrie."  She goes on.  "The Norse refer to me as Arnbjorg, close but no marbles."  She says with that musical laugh.  "But this generation knows me as Fawkes."