Lyra spent the next few nights stalking the faun, carefully keeping her distance but always staying close enough to observe. She learned the faun's habits, the places she frequented, and the patterns of her movements. Lyra felt a strange sense of familiarity growing between them, even though they had yet to speak.
One evening, as Lyra watched from her usual hiding place, the faun suddenly stopped and turned in her direction. Lyra froze, her heart skipping a beat. Had she been too careless? Had the faun finally noticed her presence?
Instead of fleeing, the faun tilted her head, a puzzled look on her face. Lyra felt a burst of hope—now was her opportunity. She slowly emerged from the shadows, keeping her motions slow and non-threatening.
The faun's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't run. Lyra took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in her chest. She held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. The faun watched her carefully, her body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.
"I… I'm sorry," Lyra said, her voice soft and uncertain. "I didn't mean to frighten you before. I just… I've never seen anyone like you."
The faun's gaze softened slightly, though she remained cautious. She didn't reply, but Lyra saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes.
Lyra took another step forward, her movements slow and deliberate. "My name is Lyra," she continued, her voice steadying. "I'm a huntress, but I… I don't want to hurt you. I only want to talk."
The faun's ears twitched, and she seemed to relax just a little. Lyra took this as a good sign and pressed on.
"I've been watching you," she admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "Not in a bad way, just… I've never met anyone like you before. You're… you're beautiful."
The faun blinked in surprise, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. For a moment, Lyra thought she might actually respond, The faun walked over to Lyra and started to sniff her out of curiosity. Her noise was cold and wet almost like a dog. She sniffed under her arm around the back of her head, The faun grunts like the smell was repulsive. Lyra giggles has her heart pound in her chest. By the time Lyra opens her mouth the faun turns around and disappears into the forest, leaving Lyra standing alone once more.
Lyra sighed, a mix of frustration and relief washing over her. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She had finally spoken to the faun, and even though she hadn't replied, Lyra felt a connection beginning to form. It was fragile, like the first delicate threads of a spider's web, but it was there.