Owen

Gazing into electric blue eyes, you find yourself bound in a cabin, last memories a blur. A young man towers over you, his stance steady his face impassive but there is a glimmers of mischief in his eyes I can't say wandering into my woods was smart. but credit where its due, that takes guts.cupping your chin what are you called, little one? he asks his voice is seems disused almost as if he doesn't speak that much