I know, I fought you in the dark
“Just Wessex,” the Wraith seems to reply automatically, having heard his feet on the leaves a minute or so before he rounted the tree-corner. Turning to face him, the older woman pivots with her back to the tree, the opposite shoulder now resting against the bark, arms still crossed. “No, no trouble…” yet, she thinks, not that he’d ever guess that from her mild, polite expression. Drifting off as she tries to place him, his face is definitely familiar, it’s just a matter of oh, maybe ageing him down a bit. Parents? Who are his parents?“Walker…?” she says finally, making a face that says she knows she’s guessing. And going to feel bad if she gets it wrong, considering she can't even come up with a first name. Queenly fail. Gods, who lives in this area still?
the wraith
WESSEX
