It is okay to take what you need, if you truly need it, Michael.
Michael. There was a delicious irony in the name of the young man whose envious eyes cast themselves upon the same woman time and again. Michael Hart was a hunter, just like his father -- before the poor man had gotten himself killed. He liked to be in the thick of trouble, and he liked pretty women.
It was little wonder that Ivory had caught his eye, then. While his memory skirted around her existance, his body had remembered the warmth of her touch, and the teasing promise that the next woman he desired would desire him in return.
It made it easier when Malinda had gone to the edge of town. Malinda Fairbanks was a pretty girl, as pretty girls in Myrken went. With blond hair of honeyed wheat and pretty blue eyes of the sky, she was slightly vain in her beauty. Michael Hart never would have a chance.
If he hadn't taken one.
The hunter had covered the mouth of a delicious, budding woman and dragged her farther into the woods that he loved so much. He had grabbed slight wrists, and all of his physical fury was spent forcefully into the body of a girl.
Above the struggling pair, a creature of fair beauty and lavender tints sat, watching with amused intrigue. Nothing was said, even as the hunter's knife was 'remembered', even as the struggling cries of a girl were silenced with a burble of blood from her throat. Nothing at all, as a bloody hunter staggered away from the scene to go clean himself up.
Mine..