He held his aim, his fingers trembling along the sharp string of his bow. He watched you critically, wondering what a frail thing like you were doing so far away from wherever you came from. He watched you as you slowly stood up, rising from the crouched position that he found you in when you lunged for his kill and began to eat the raw meat. He noticed how pale and weak you looked, as though the cold was starting to kill you, but its competition was hunger.

"Little ghost," he whispered as he stared at you, noticing how shocking your appearance was to him. He could tell that there was beauty once in your face, where your cheeks might have been more full, and your eyes lighter with sleep. He finally retracted his bow and arrow, staring at you with a sense of pity.

The corpse between you both oozed blood, just as he intended. And despite stealing his kill, all you could think about was how you might share the same fate as his last victim. Your eyes stared up at him, practicing caution as you did your best to give nothing away, especially not yourself. You watched as he let his guard down before you.