-Ezra:
I stared down at him.
Even sitting on that wooden stool, the same one I had placed for him when I got him out of the room, he looked impossibly small. Fragile. That word kept repeating in my mind, louder than anything else. Fragile.
Yesterday, when I first saw him in the forest, kneeling in the dirt, dressed in soft pink—soft, almost unreal pink, as he had stepped out of a world I didn't belong to—he had seemed delicate in every possible way. Narrow shoulders, thin arms, wrists that looked like they might snap under the wrong pressure. He was short. Light. Too small to be dangerous.
And yet, every step he took, every breath he drew, carried something undeniable.
I had caught his scent first, lingering near the border of the Grayson territory. It had been faint at first, like a whisper through the underbrush, a scent that should have been impossible. Enigma.
