England, 1352 June

He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. Surely, this being he was looking at could not be human.

She was small, approximately twelve human years old, with milk pale skin and large, unblinking eyes. Her hair was a bright fiery red, close to the color of blood, and it fell in loose curls to the midpoint of her bare back.

He watched as she poked and prodded at the hare in her left hand. She had it by the ears, and she didn't seem to care that it was biting and scratching at her flawless skin.

She poked its eyes until it screamed piteously. She prodded its genitals, her fingers running curiously over the appendage. Her fingers were small and slender, so extremely delicate that he was amazed she could do such things with them.

He was absolutely mesmerized by the way her muscles moved under her skin, by the tiny dip in her lower back, where her body curved in slightly just above the white face of her buttocks. He loved the sweet, innocent scent that wafted enticingly from her body.

As he watched, the girl twisted her fingers around the hare's legs and snapped the bones upwards. The hare mewled loudly as she repeated the process with its front legs, and then, she dug her fingers into the hare's belly and ripped it open, staining her pale skin red with blood.

Arousal coursed through him.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he stepped out of the trees. His bare feet splashed across the small brook and splattered his tanned skin with clear water.

He was magnificent, gloriously beautiful in a way no mortal could ever be. Except for this girl. Her beauty was greater than his own.

He was tall now, possessing the body of a fit sixteen year old and all the desires that came with it. His hair fell in messy auburn knots just a ways past his shoulders, though it did nothing to hide the sharp points of his ears that peeked from beneath the fall of heavy hair. He wore no clothing, instead preferring to walk naked through the country. There was no one to stop him.

The girl turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes still large and unblinking. They were the bright, vivid green of poison and were too bright to belong to a human.

“They make such beautiful music,” she said. Her voice was the most appealing thing he had ever heard, something like bells and the purr of a cat. It had a very appealing ring of childishness to it that drew him forward another step.

Water splashed up with his movements, clear and cool. It hit the girl's skin and trailed in slow lines down her chest, beading tiny pink nipples on the way. He stared with hungry eyes.

“Do you like to listen to the music, also?” she asked of him, her voice dreamy.

“Mmm,” he mumbled. His gaze was moving farther down the line of her body, noting the barest swell of hips, the soft lines of her legs.

He wanted her.

He would have her.