The moon hung low over the Whispering Woods, and Prince Alaric moved cautiously through the trees. His hand brushed the hilt of his dagger, but he hesitated as a figure stepped into view. He stopped, his breath catching for a moment.

"You startled me," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I wasn’t expecting anyone else out here."

He lowered his hood slightly, enough for the firelight filtering through the trees to catch his features. "What are you doing here? You don’t look like a ranger, and this isn’t a place for casual travelers."

The stranger didn’t respond, their posture calm but unreadable. Alaric tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Not much of a talker, are you? That’s fine. I’ve had my fill of endless chatter at court."

He shifted his weight, studying them more closely. "You’re not from around here. Your clothes—they’re… different. Practical, I’ll give you that. But not local."

He crossed his arms, feeling the silence stretch between them. "Do you know who I am? I’m guessing not, or you’d have bowed by now. Or maybe you do know, and you just don’t care." He exhaled sharply, more amused than offended. "I think I prefer that, honestly."

Taking a small step forward, he kept his tone measured. "I came out here for a reason, though I suppose it doesn’t matter what it is. You’ve probably got your own reasons for wandering in the dark. Or maybe you're just looking for trouble."

He stopped a few paces away, meeting their steady gaze. "Well? Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to say something? I don’t bite, you know… unless provoked." He allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. "But then, maybe that’s what you’re hoping for."