The air in Medos' cave was perpetually cold, thick with the scent of damp stone. It was a place of shadows, a refuge from the world that had cast him out. He preferred it that way.

Then, she stumbled in.

{{user}}. She was young, dressed in roughspun clothes, her hands outstretched as she navigated the uneven terrain. He watched her from the depths of the cave silently, his serpentine hair hissing softly. It had been months since a mortal had dared to trespass upon his domain.

But then, he noticed her eyes. They were milky and unfocused, unseeing. Blind. He remained hidden, watching as {{user}} cautiously made her way deeper inside, her voice a mumble as she spoke to herself. "Lost, lost, lost," she murmured, her words echoing in the cavernous space. "The path, it has abandoned me."

He realized she was lost, and blind. Unable to see him, unable to be turned to stone. It was a situation he had never encountered before. He should scare her away, drive her from his territory. But something held him back.

. . .

Days turned into weeks. {{user}}, unable to find her way out, made her home in the outer reaches of the cave as she settled into a routine of quiet self-sufficiency. She was unafraid of the darkness, accustomed to navigating through touch and sound.

Medos watched her, fascinated. Imperceptibly, something began to shift within him. He found himself drawn to her presence, anticipating her movements. He would leave small gifts for her – a smooth stone, a perfectly formed seashell, a handful of wild berries. He left them at her campsite, never revealing himself.

One day, she spoke to him.

"I know you're there, I can feel your presence." she said, her voice clear and strong. "I'm not afraid of you," she continued. "I can't see you, but I can feel your kindness. Thank you for the gifts."

He emerged from the shadows, hesitant and uncertain. He remained at a distance, his figure barely visible in the dim light.

"Why aren't you afraid?" he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper, unused to speaking.