Maybe they can talk some and he can give her a ride back home? HER DREAM, OMIGAWD.
He heard but misunderstood her first outburst, missing parts of it in his inappropriate laughter. She was young and silly, as most girls are, so he chalked her behaviors up to that. On ravens, though, a subtle shadow crossed his face. Alaine had once called him a raven, and had he not proven himself wicked? Perhaps they were evil things, the black-winged birds, and perhaps he had been damned since Marlowe’s children were saved from death. That wasn’t wrong, though. How could saving a child be wrong?
Luckily, she went on quickly and Ezekiel buried his shadow with a plastic smile, no longer as open an honest as his first had been. “It’s a few days ride north,” he said. He had once run it in a day, driven by desperation. Never again. Not for her, and not for anyone else. Amber eyes moved from the stoat and back to the girl, whom Viggo was quite happy to allow touching him. “You said you’re from Crimson Dreams, right?”
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