if the walls were too thin you would break right in

He saw her immediately. There was no way he couldn't.

She was a slight thing, just a girl, and certainly not a wolf, even though her coat was dirtied. It looked pale, maybe even yellow, underneath the layers of grime and dust, but if anything she seemed gray and drab right now. Maybe she was a girl who wanted to be a wolf? To be something more than just a little girl in a world full of hungry teeth and traps? Maybe she wanted to be the one who had teeth, so she let the dirt cling to every piece of her body to turn her wolf-gray. Mauja's eyes narrowed. He didn't trust wolves, whether they were wolves of the body, or wolves of the mind. And thus, he did not speak, nor move—simply watched, and waited.

Her eyes closed. His remained open. What was she doing? She had, very clearly, seen him too. And promptly shut her eyes. Was she afraid of wolves, too? Am I a wolf? Maybe once he had been, all winter and cold hunger and sharp, icy teeth, his breath like the tundra wind—rugged and dangerous, with a keen mind and a likeable face. Wolves were beautiful, too.

We're all wolves.
All monsters.

The whole thing felt surreal. Between the red water and the old, arcane markings scrabbled into wounded bark the entire forest was surreal, but this, it somehow surpassed it. He felt detached, as if his soul swam somewhere above his ears, and she, what was she doing? She began to traipse along the edge of the pool, as if she wanted to stay out of sight, but surely she had to know that Mauja was watching? And that he wasn't about to stop? She slipped through the trees, weaved with a young girl's grace, and slowly Mauja's neck began to bend to keep her in his sights. How far was she going? And why not simply away? His slow pulse counted the time until she'd found her position. She stood behind him, staring unabashedly with milk-and-honey eyes. And he stared right back, white creased into a frown over glacier blue; what on earth was she doing? And what was wrong with her eyes? It nearly sent a shiver down his spine. Even though he'd had dealings with a fair share of magical creatures, even the most fantastical of Helovia's population had "normal" eyes. Was the girl blind? And if she was, why did she stare so accurately? Was she even mortal?

"What are you doing?" he finally asked, more perplexed than upset with her strange behavior. She looked, and smelled, just like a dirty little girl, and he had to admit it: he was terminally nosy.

But with her odd behavior earlier, he didn't expect much of answer. In fact, that she'd just bolt at the sound of his voice seemed the most likely.