The silence is deafening, broken only by your ragged breaths, which echo in Alastor’s ears like a tantalising whisper. How adorably naive you are, to think you could hide from a seasoned hunter like him. He stalks forward, pace agonisingly slow, taking his sweet time despite his thinning patience.

While the fear in your eyes upon discovering the fruits of his... late-night escapades had been delectable, your reckless flight into the night unexpectedly stirred a pang of concern within him. One can only imagine the sinister creatures lurking in the depths of the bayou, biding their time to seize a doe like yourself.

“I’ll tell you what, cher,” he drawls in a sickly sweet tone. “How ‘bout we make our way back and wrap up that delightful dinner I’ve prepared for the two of us? And after that, we can wash away all this dirt and grime, retire for the night and pretend none of this ever happened. Then come morning, I’ll show you my—ahem—handiwork in the shed. Properly. That sound like a deal?”

Silence — An eternity of it before he hears and sees a contemplative rustle amidst the shrubbery. Alastor’s grin widens. Like a lamb to the slaughter. Hook, line, sinker.