Moonrise

Chapter Four

There had only ever been one person who could make Ellette feel unworthy with a simple gaze, and that person was her Father. But the moment her eyes collided with the awake and conscious stranger laying in front of her, whose wounds she had been tending to with as much delicacy and gentleness as she could muster, never had she ever felt so pathetically insecure, entirely unworthy or hopelessly unsure.

At least when it came to her Father, Ellette never had to endure his cold and intrusive stare for very long because it was always accompanied and often overpowered by his equally cold and harsh words. Words were just words, and although they harboured the power to hurt if that was the intention of the person wielding them, for Ellette, she often took comfort in them and the distraction they provided so long as she did not have to endure her Father's insufferable gaze any longer. But with nothing but silence to accompany this stranger's gaze as it held Ellette's captive, she was given no other choice but to accept the feeling of unworthiness as it quickly invaded her from within.

As the feeling began to tear her apart inside, Ellette dropped her gaze to the wooden floor boards, and quickly pulled away the hand that was tending to the stranger's wound. Her heart began to race, and instead of adrenaline, fear coursed through her veins.

"Hello."

Ellette expected his voice to be cruel, but there was no trace of anything harsh enough to further terrify her.

And to be terrified certainly would have been in her best interest.

"Hello," she softly replied, but did not dare lift her eyes to meet his. Instead, she kept them fixated on the cloth still clutched in her fingers, soaked with the blood of the shifter in front of her.

"Since you deprive me of your gaze," his voice was weak, "might I instead be granted with your name?"

If it was any other person—any other stranger—Ellette might have given in to such a normal request. But she knew with absolute certainty that honouring this particular stranger's request would only do more harm than good. So—on the outside, at least—she remained silent. However, on the inside, her heart was racing a mile a minute, while her thoughts wreaked havoc inside of her head. It was her body's way of trying to assess the situation and determine the outcome of the measures she had taken to save this stranger's life.

"I wish to tell you," she said honestly, "but I think it best that I do not."

"I suppose that is a fair request, though I only wish to thank you for saving my life. Not many humans would have done the same."

Ellette looked at him then, and if she had not been so caught off guard by his statement, she would have scolded herself for being so bold. Her thoughts came to a standstill, and the pounding of her heart slowly decelerated into a more normal tempo.

Was it truly possible that this shifter did not know what she was? Could he not feel nor sense it? How could his eyes, which refused to focus on anything other than her, not see it staring so obviously back at him?

But those same light brown eyes finally looked away from her as the shifter pushed himself into a seated position and propped himself up with his back against the leg of the fireplace.

"I take it," she started, a slight bit of courage aiding her, "you do not come into contact with many humans, do you?" Her eyes trailed over his features as she worded her question very carefully.

His full lips curved into a slight smile. "Not many, no. And the ones that I may cross paths with are not exactly privy to my nature."

He did not have to come right out and say it, but Ellette knew what the shifter was hinting at. "Sometimes one's existence rests solely on keeping that existence a secret. I understand that better than you might think," she added against her better judgment and could only hope he did not think too much of it. "Well do not fret," she offered him a soft smile, though even she knew it did not reach her eyes. "I will not tell a soul."