...he watches her enter the cemetery, moving behind her as he has since her departure from the Inn, watching over her...a silent guardian angel.
He follows her into the cemetery unseen, hearing the voices of the dead with his keen elven ears, his lime green eyes sensing the tumult they create amongst their rotting remains...
He had followed her for months as she wandered through the forest aimlessly...watching her sleep...killing any creature that threatened her... she had made him feel at home...comfortable...something he hadn’t felt in years... he couldn’t let go of the feeling that had gripped him that night...
...almost like the beginning of ...something...?
As the sun sets, he tenses, drawing his long elven daggers, the magical runes he carved into the handle glowing brightly as they hit the spirit-engorged air, the green light engulfing the weapons. He runs through the place of death, leaping nimbly from tombstone to tombstone, leaving a trail of green fire behind him, as the spirits rise from their places of rest, menacing, and crying for her blood...
Reaching her, he pulls her behind him, tearing his cloak off, and throwing it to the ground. He stands protectively before her, wearing all black, his eyes shining with the same fire as his blades, the spirits closing in slowly, their eyes glowing red in the dark cemetery...
In a flash he is among them, whirling, his blades flying as he does through the air, cutting through the misty beings, who scream in rage and terror. Realizing it is a losing battle, he puts up his daggers, the fire in his eyes still burning. He grabs her, throwing her over one shoulder, makes a mad dash for the gates, followed by a flood of screaming souls...
...she never makes a sound...
...leaping through the gates, he runs through the village, taking her deep into the forest, traveling all night.
...as the sun comes up, he lays her on his soft bed in the abandoned monastery he inhabits...
...she sleeps, and he watches...
...waiting...