Just like the first time they met, falling from a tree into his arms, and this time not at all prepared, she met those clear blue eyes straight on.
His brilliant blonde hair was short and lovely; the teenage knight was dressed in a silky white shirt with silver-plated fastenings around his waist and was as handsome as he had first met; and the people surrounding him were laughing and smiling, so it was clear that this wolf knight was at ease in aristocratic settings.
He probably wasn't really lying. But Dill was more curious as to whether it was the hunter who had adopted the wolf cubs in a sudden act of kindness. Or were the hunters themselves wolves in disguise, just generations of young wolves being raised in sheep dens?
Dill flicked her gaze away with a quick glance, but the other woman did not.
An incredibly eager and focused line of sight came straight at him, and the young knight had no qualms at all about staring at the young girl with a blush on his face. If they hadn't been separated by several tables, Dill could have guaranteed that he would have pounced on them with a wag of his tail and a gleeful pounce, like a big dog seeing someone he knew.
Dill could only pretend to concentrate on the dessert on her plate.
The leftovers and desserts were being removed and the waiters began to bring cheeses and fruits accompanied by wine. The feast was not only not coming to an end, it was heading in a worse direction.
They began to clear out the empty seats and add more candles to the crystal lamp in the center. Lord Lester led the way with his lady in an opening dance that was like throwing a stone into a pool full of fish. Then, in pairs—two pairs—people began to jump onto the dance floor one after the other.
Dill looked at the stupid crowd and her stomach began to boil with alcohol. She sloughed her face and said to Kristina, "It's hot in here; let's go outside and blow off some steam."
Kristina was about to speak when suddenly her eyes lit up and a bad feeling rose in Dill's heart, and sure enough, she turned around and was right on the man's chest.
Slowly looking upward, with her white jaws and elegant curves, the teenager's handsome appearance could fool anyone, like the moon witch behind her.
"Come on, Dill." The people behind them gave a sneaky push and ran out of sight.
Dill: Big sister? Do you realize you just pushed your little friend into a wolf?
"It's been a while."
Hearing Mucha's voice again, Dill was momentarily somewhat dazed.
Suddenly the hem of her skirt tightened, and someone stepped on her dress. Dill had no time to react; the other hand was faster. Mucha skillfully brought the young girl to his side, and the other hand gently pushed the person away, rescuing a touch of tender green satin from under his feet.
The gentle wolf rider wiped the dust off her skirt, his clear blue eyes seemingly filled with thousands of candlelight: "You are beautiful tonight."
Perhaps it was the alcohol in her stomach that was doing the trick. Dill retreated into a cold sweat, her cheeks gradually swelling with heat.
She was suddenly a little angry—angry at Mucha but also angry at herself. Obviously, they knew each other's details, but the other could be so calm and collected, while she was scared like a sheep, hiding everywhere.
She is a witch, a natural enemy of the werewolf; she does not need to be afraid of him at all, much less need to hide from him. Just talk to him as she did then.
She and he were equals.
Dill looks up quietly, and that's when she realizes that the teenager's face is also red, which makes her wonder if he's had too much to drink as well.
The young girl whispered back, "None of this is my clothes or things."
Mucha's face was surprised; he could not help but laugh: "No wonder the perfume does not suit you."
Dill: Huh?
The Moon Witch subconsciously stared at the other party's dishonestly strong nose.
The Wolf Knight, however, was oblivious to it and continued to revel in it, "Your fragrance is enough, better than all the fruits and flowers of the Green Valley River, and that cheap imitation will only cover up your beauty."
Unlike just now, when she complimented the clothes, Dill heard another meaning: artificial flavors would cover the aroma of natural ingredients.
It was the first time he had seen her in the garb of Vittokvano.
The maiden's breath was a light dewdrop, a bright green stream in a room full of purple and blood-red wine, and he had seen her early by the trail of scent.
The girl he hadn't seen for a long time was dressed in the soft green of early spring, with creamy lace showing under the long, draped sleeves. This lovely gown only showed the shallow curve of her shoulders and neck, and it was the dress of a noblewoman who had never been married, and the blood of the Eastern Shore had given her the midnight color of her hair and the pupils of her eyes, so that the young girl's pure beauty was covered with a layer of mysterious darkness, which made people want to reach out and pierce the layer of secrecy.
The clear green pupils of his eyes flashed with a flash of sharp gold, and before the maiden tried to slip away again like a fawn, the young wolf rider gently took her hand, and like an angler with a tempting hook, he forcefully, but gently, drew his prey into the pool where the fish were swimming.