He's Under My Spell

ters the forest mountain, it loomed over her, a silent, unforgivi

feathers ruffled by the wind. "Luminous," she whispered, "Can you

foliage. Priscilla, exhausted and dehydrated, sank to the ground, her kne

nd of a gentle voice

n a small, cozy room, the scent of pine needles filling th

I?" she stammered

conscious. I found you in my yard.

nd, bewildered. "I...

sured her. "You're safe h

angers. But his kindness, genuine and unwavering, disarmed her.

You're welcome. R

n to the cane leaning against the wall. He wa

couldn't help but stare, fascinated. He moved with an uncanny grace, his hands outstretched, seemingly sensing the obstacles in his p

man said, his voice a low ru

ry," she stammered, "I didn't mean to be rude. I

t a flicker of unease, as if she'd said something wrong. "I'm used to i

feeling a surge of guilt. "I'm trul

sive hand. "Don't worr

Priscilla asked again

of the mountain of L

Bacong, her former home. The memory of their house, now reduced to ashes, bro

ted uncomfortably on the furs. "Is... is it okay to ask what happened? You looked... ex

la managed a weak smile. "I..

simply offered her the bowl of broth again. "E

y. She couldn't stay here any longer. She had

to her feet. "Thank you for sa

little stronger. "You don't know

lla explained, her voice trembling.

gly. "Alright, then. Be car

genuine smile gracing her lips this

vis," the m

bode, yet it held a warmth she hadn't felt since the fire. It was a reminder that not all huts he