Minyelaire kept her hood down in her face. She stood rather relaxed there before him, like a crimson figure, a wraith of dread, light reflects on her from the snow, ltting her glow in a terribly light. Daerundros, in her horror, looked down to see her fallen companion being cornered by the hooded face. Amlarad slowed his breathing and slid his gaze down his blade, aimed squarely from afar at her crimson chest. No! In haste Daerundros jumped down hurriedly and landed lightly on her feet, losing her balance.
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the hunt
