"Why do you even need the right ring?" Innesha asked Baeron for the seventeenth time.
The small stone hearth inside his quaint wooden cabin left an orange glow around the area and on the girl's narrow and sharp face, flickering and casting the dancing flames shadows upon every bare wall.
It was beginning to die since he'd been gone for hours hunting, and here, where he chose to be far away from humanity's cruel clutches of the cities, it was quite cold.
"You ask a lot of questions," Baeron said while cutting venison from the deer he hunted earlier that evening.
Sometimes he enjoyed her company, and other times he hated the many questions that came along with her. Then there were the times he had to remind himself their closeness was only for vengeance. That he didn't raise her for the sake of love or being a good father. Ja'ule Aldain had taken everything from him.
He was leached of all his warmth and kindness.
