The forest that night filled with despair and restlessness. Talk of various villagers disappearing had seized the people with fear like an anaconda squeezing a person in its grip. Damaine drifted through the woods with his mind clouded with anguish. The bearer of his gaze showed him their bodies. Now, he was questioning everything. Was he the monster that the villagers dreaded?
While his breath remained shaky and his hands trembled, Dragolina was the first to notice him standing over the dead body of a villager. So, what did she do? She glanced at him and began to run. For the first time in life she was scared not out of hatred, nor aversion but due to lack of understanding. She didn't know what she was so terrified of, but whatever it was, she did not want to confront it.
With all her fear she could not forget the image of his eyes which were seeking something, pleading but could offer no clarity. Yet something deep down suggested that he was far from being the murderer. However as time passed by, she realized, caution can prove to be costly.
As the days passed, Dragolina found herself watching him from the edges of the village. He no longer came close, but she could sense his presence in the woods. Lingering. Waiting. Her thoughts betrayed her. Why did her heart tighten when she thought of him alone in the dark? Why did she wish to run into the woods rather than away from them?
Damaine was also caught in the middle of a silent war. He knew she had seen him and that she had been afraid. Yet, she hadn't spoken against him. Did she trust him? Or was she simply waiting for evidence to find him guilty?
The next day, Dragolina stood at the edge of the trees as she held tightly unto her cloak. She did not hear him approach, but she felt him. His presence was behind her, hesitant yet undeniable.
"You should not be here," his voice was almost inaudible, hoarse due to exhaustion.
She turned around resting her gaze or his deep violet eyes. The moonlight cast shadows over his face, softening the sharp edges of his features. She should have stepped back. She should have run again but she didn't.
"I could say the same about you," she replied, her voice was steady but her heart shaked.
A silence stretched between them filled with words that struggled to stay hidden. She studied him. His hands flexed at his sides, the way his soft lips pressed together as though he was fighting against saying something he shouldn't. Then it clicked, the reason why she couldn't run away. She wanted to understand him. She wanted to know the truth, not just about the perpetrator of this devious act, but about him.
He took a slow step closer, and she did not move away.
"Do you think it was me?" he asked her taking another step closer as she could feel his breath fanning her cheeks. For the first time, he stared deeply into her eyes. Warmeth flickered through his deep violet eyes as though he was hoping that she'd see through him.
Her breath hitched. She was short of words as tried to pull herself together. Her mind wandered back to the incident. She had seen the bodies. She had seen him. However, deep down in her heart she knew that the answer was more complicated than it seemed.
"I don't know," she resigned, pausing a little bit. "But I want to."
Damaine exhaled, something unreadable passing over his face. Perhaps relief. Perhaps regret. Without another word, he turned his back and left her standing there as he disappeared into the woods.
Still, she could feel her heart pounding and her mind racing.
For the first time, Dragolina knew that running away was the last thing she should be doing.