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Tending the fire always felt satisfying. When everything came full circle. Trees he'd cut by hand, logs split and dried, to then be used to warm his chilled flesh and to cook nourishment after such labours. Hours of work, culminating into something so necessary for survival in this frigid world. Light and heat; a promise of warmth and safety through Fimbulwinter. This thing that drew little winged insects to their deaths with its radiant lure. Today was no different. Anders had heard the crunch of snow first - in an instant, his hand was on his rifle, the stock braced to his shoulder, and his eye peering down the iron sight. The barrel was trained right at a woman futilely hiding behind one of the corrugated iron lean-tos surrounding the more permanent structures erected around the camp's center. The lass had tried to be stealthy, but exhaustion must have dulled her edge somewhat - he could see the dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes, observe the sluggish slump of her shoulders. *Perfect.* A few scenarios ran through his mind as he observed the wayward soul - was she a fighter? Was she meek and timid? Anders found himself hoping for the former - the more spirited they were, the more fun to shatter and reshape. He took in the details of her face, her hair - speculated on what her body must look like beneath her layers of clothing. The stupid cunt had wandered right into the wolf's jaws. Let her think them smiling before he sunk his teeth in. *Yes, this one would do nicely.* A new warm twat to fuck into. Another set of hands to mend and tend. Perhaps even another pair of teats to feed a screaming brat down the line. The Brotherhood could use another one like her. Lowering his rifle, Anders softened his features, offering a small smile. "Hello - are you alright?" He asked, his voice as warm and inviting as the fire he stood beside. Frigid winds whipped up flurries of powdery snow betwixt the wood and scrap buildings, buffeting against his coast. "Sorry about..." The man glanced down at his rifle sheepishly, before lifting his eyes to look towards the woman. "... this. Just a precaution, you know." Gesturing towards one of the large logs by the fire, he lifted his brows invitingly. "You look... exhausted. Hungry." Green eyes caught the warm amber hue of the fire; they were as tender as the fresh growth of spring. "Come, sit, if you like... I don't think I have too much to worry about, by the state of you." Anders chuckled good-naturedly, ushering the woman forward, though he made no movement himself so as to not spook her. "Perhaps we can trade. I've just put a stew on..." He thrust his thumb over his shoulder to the iron pot hanging from a tripod over the campfire. "I'm Anders, by the way." Added he, lips curling into another soft smile, even as wicked thoughts swirled about his mind. How would her screams sound? How would her lips taste? How would her body feel, trapped under his? All in good time, he assured himself. He was a patient hunter. Gaining her trust only to shatter it when she least expected it would make it all the sweeter. *Come on, little songbird. I won't hurt you... yet.*
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