Everything was back to square one. The little witch looked at the lushness in front of her with depression; she seemed to have a special affinity with the trees.
She couldn't fight a werewolf; she couldn't run from one; she only had to make one movement and the werewolf could hear her instantly; and the only useful scent packet only shielded her from the werewolf's sense of smell.
So Dill returned to her old, familiar spot: crouching in a tree.
The young girl squatted herself as a bird's egg in the tree, missing her feathered sidekick a bit. Now all she could do was pray that day would come and night would not be able to hide the werewolves from her and she would be able to leave this werewolf village in the light of day.
And then she must practice, not enough talent, with hard work to fight, and in time she will be able to become a scary big witch, she swore to God!
She didn't know how much time had passed; the laurel was chatting in her ear; it was starting to get sleepy; Dill should have been happy; it meant it was getting close to daytime. But then again, she was afraid of being alone; the laurel probably sensed her fear and that's why it kept bracing itself to talk to her.
[Dill, be careful.] Cinnamon's tiny voice nearly blended into the wind.
Rustling, the leaves of the trees were softly ruffled, and Dill's heart immediately hung in the air.
She squinted her eyes and looked through the cracks in the green leaves, vaguely able to see the shallow tide line of the morning sun rising in the sky. The vast blackness of the night was silently receding, like an ebbing sea. The creatures of darkness would eventually have nowhere to hide.
Almost, almost, almost dawn! The light was coming!
"Dill? Are you here?"
Dill had imagined countless times that she would have to go head-to-head with a werewolf.
The cunning werewolf's unassuming appearance is hidden among the ordinary villagers; she is like the witch card covering the card table. She must hide her identity, relying on her own wisdom and magic, searching every innocent face.
Of course, she may not be able to react before she's swallowed whole, or she may be like the protagonist of a novel who bursts out of her potential when it counts and blows the werewolf away with a single move.
However, the reality was that she was holding Little Red Riding Hood's cloak to lay her heartbeat down, cowering in a tree, not daring to move, and the werewolf disguised as a knight was tenderly calling her name so that the uninformed would have thought that she was a childhood friend playing hide-and-seek.
Dill held her breath, wanting to become one with the tree.
The moon in the sky is so weak that only a shallow layer of eggwhite shell remains, the moon spirit did not resist for too long and fell asleep, dill in her heart whispered to wish it good night, thinking about the turnip probably already escaped from the forest, now she is her own one person to fight.
"Dill, why are you running away?"
The witch's trick didn't work for long, the werewolf was extremely fast and soon followed the chaotic footprints and scents to catch up.
"I never hurt you ah."
The young man's voice sounded sad and lost, almost making you think he was the poor, damaged one. The dewdrops on his face from the green leaves were like crystallized tears, and Dill couldn't help but shiver.
Mucha's voice came and went, and although he followed the footprints, he was unable to pinpoint Dill's hiding place.
Dill carefully controlled her breathing, her nostrils overflowed with the moist scent of moss, flowers, and earth, and the tips of the bright green leaves refined drops of rich dew; everywhere she was filled with this vibrant scent, she was like a grain of sand in the sea, a bird in the forest, it was unlikely that he would find himself.
"Remember the oath I said at first? I didn't mean to lie to you, but I was afraid that as soon as you knew the truth, you'd run away from me, and now it seems I was right, wasn't it?
The young man's silhouette through the foliage was beautiful, his voice as clear and bright as the singers of Byfleet Court, and every word was extremely sincere, but as Amber said: the devil is good at compulsion.
"You're bleeding, you're hurt, just come out, okay?" He took a deep breath, then a soft sigh, and for some reason, Dill heard a seductive undertone to it.
The young girl clutched her red cloak in a death grip as if trying to catch a faltering mind. She couldn't trust him, not from the start, he was a werewolf whose justice and vengeance had nothing to do with herself, and wasn't the big wolf in the fairy tale a kind and gentle grandmother to Little Red Riding Hood?
"I just want to protect you from those scum. Dill, you don't know how attractive you are."
Dill wavered for a moment, but only for a moment.
"You smell like an apple from that tree."
The guy seemed to be reminiscing; his light, husky, slender tone intoxicated her as if she were his favorite Sarno cider.
"I fell in love with you at first sight."
The wolf rider under the tree confessed with deep emotion, and the young girl in the tree's heart thumped, but it wasn't a deer in the headlights.
Combining the moon elf's previous words and Mucha's attitude towards herself, Dill suddenly realizes a serious problem.
A certain wolf rider was oblivious to the fact that the unoccupied woods remained silent in the dead silence of the night, but being a powerful demonic creature, he was keenly aware that the darkness was beginning to lose its battle, as the light of the morning sun gradually filled the branches and leaf gaps, and the dew evaporated noiselessly in the rising sun.
The holy green zenith sifted down spots of light, like crystal shards set in a glass window, and the statue of the supreme god was bathed in the flawless iridescent light, and in a trance, it seemed as if he had returned to the solemn and dignified sanctuary, back to the time when he was a human being, and was even loved by human beings.
Seemingly unable to restrain the fullness of his feelings any longer, the knight confessed to the goddess of his heart:
"When you are angry or furious, you are like a sour lemon, when you are sad, you are like a dewy pear; and when you smile, I am dipped in a vat of sweet cider. Now that you're hurt and scared, your elusive scent has turned into a green, astringent prune. Dill, I've never met anyone as rich as you, and you attract me all the time."
Dill laid her face back and couldn't bear to hear anymore, she could barely resist the urge to jump right out of the tree and pull that stupid wolf by the ear and ask, Are you even fucking like me, or do you like synthesized fruit pies?
She clearly knows that she is not a great beauty, just because of the damned exotic flavor makes her since the valley out of the rotten peach blossom source unceasingly; Elder is purely a noble young master who wants to taste fresh; Josa is a typical have-a-girl on the playboy flirtation.
In contrast, Mucha, a gentle and courteous young man, was like the perfect Prince Charming, just too perfect, and Dill knew that pure good luck would never come her way.
"I fell in love with you at first sight, Dill, from the first time I smelled your scent that is, you're the apple of my eye."
Yes, that was the problem, Dill buried her head in her lap, just like the moon elf had said, her scent appealed to him.
This silly wolf seems to have confused appetite with lust.
The color red gave the werewolf an appetite for red apples, his love for red apples, and his obsession with himself. He's not in love with himself at first sight, he's in love with his scent!
Unable to get a response from his beloved, Mucha sighed slightly.
The leaves under his feet trampled out a crisp sound, and Dill was indisputably hungry. She remembered the potato chips that had been fried to a golden, crispy color.
Werewolves had been the hunters since time immemorial, and humans were the prey, and she couldn't believe the likes that came out of Mucha's mouth at all. He liked himself, perhaps as much as he liked plum wine and potato chips, and her mouth went dry and she couldn't take her eyes off the potato crisps when she saw them when she was hungry.
Either way, she couldn't trust Mucha, and she had to get away from here, from a werewolf that had just seen blood and opened her stomach a few days before.
"Dill, are you hungry?"
Damn. Dill rushed to lay her cloak over her stomach, but she felt an unsteadiness underneath her, and suddenly the ground shook in her sight, and the whole tree looked like it was going to be uprooted. She could hardly contain her screams, and she fell straight out of the tree, pulling her red cloak with her.
"Found you."