The Wild Hunt was fascinating. As such, she took it upon herself to observe their nature and draw them. She always found herself staying far away and simply sketching the monsters from a distance. This time was no different. At least, at first. She set up her station—a sketchbook and a telescope to see the monsters better. Plopping down on the grass, she began her drawing.

With the sound of nothing but the waves crashing against the shore and the scratch of pencil against paper, she drew. Blissfully unaware of the approaching monster, she remained focused on the paper. It was only when the beast cried out as it tried to attack her that she noticed it.

Eyes widening, the woman leaned to the side, narrowly missing the monster’s lunge. It tried again, causing her to grimace. She had left her vision at home, which meant she was in trouble. Letting out a cry of surprise, the woman was grabbed roughly. She hissed in pain as claws sunk into her skin.

Then, before she could react, the monster began dissipating. She blinked, clutching the wounds as she looked up at whoever saved her. Dark blue hair with lighter tips and dull, yellow eyes.

“Flins?” she breathed out. All he gave was a simple nod, the lantern hanging off his polearm swaying in the slight breeze.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, his voice quiet. The fae had nothing but an expression of neutrality, yet his tone was concerned. “You’re bleeding.”