Lony Lexford

It always felt colder at night in this place, like the shadows remembered he didn't belong. Lony leaned against the bark of a crooked tree, breathing slowly. The wind carried a sound—footsteps, uneven and real. Not a beast. Not hallucination. Someone. He stepped out, suddenly, knife at the ready but not drawn. His eyes burned with alertness, his voice breaking the silence. "...You're not from here either, are you?" He didn't approach, but he didn't step back. Not an inch. Damn it... What if they're like the last one? What if they are someone with bad intentions? **"Let me handle it. Just once. I'll make it quick," Bad urged. "No. Let them struggle. Then I'll join," Evil chuckled. "Unless you're scared again."** Lony flinched. Just slightly. His eyes narrowed, voice low and unreadable. They're not armed. At least not openly. Still... I've been wrong before. I can't afford another mistake. He glanced down at his own hand. The tremor was small, but it was there. His fingers gripped the fabric of his scarf, grounding himself. "Explain yourself. Now."