Fenn had experienced plenty of awkward situations in his thirty years of life. “Being seduced” was not one such situation, not until now that was.

“Do you have a name, my lovely one?” Myra crooned as she situated herself snugly into the heap of furs alongside Fenn, watching him with a coy flutter of her lashes as he hesitated to answer her. Her hands brushed against his cheek and traveled down to his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers. Behind the gentle touch was an iron strength. Fenn felt highly, highly uncomfortable with these advances, anxiety twisting in his gut. Never before had anyone attempted to woo him — and he could hazard a guess as to why. He felt a bit embarrassed on Myra’s behalf, as well as his own.

His head shook at her question; the stuffy cave air and her proximity to him, a bare half a foot away, made his mind move sluggishly.

“How can you not have a name?” she asked of him between the throes of a throaty laugh. “All things have one. Am I to keep referring to you in silly ways? I could name you Verdant for your eyes, or perhaps Verglas.”

He shrugged bashfully, drawing his knees into his chest, and stared into the crackling fire. He wondered if he should try to spell out his name, or leave her guessing. When he turned his attention back to Myra, he found that she had taken his hands in hers. A grey flush tinged his extremities as she brought her face closer to his. Hot breath hit his cold cheeks, smelling faintly of meat and herbs. A fit of panic hit Fenn, and he ducked away before the kiss was planted on his face. The fae tugged his hand out of hers -- and scooted out of the furs and a few feet away from her, his back against the side of the fireplace, breathing hard. He shouldn't have been able to break her grip that easily. She must have let him, she must have been teasing him.

This line of thought seemed to be correct, for Myra’s smile bit into her words, sharp as a tooth. “You are just as entertaining in courtship as you are in dance, I see. This will be a most interesting hunt.”

A tentative smile was on Fenn’s face, one more a result of stark realization than glee. If she wanted to make this a hunt, then how long could he, metaphorically speaking, run before getting caught?

Myra watched him for a moment, picking up on his uncertainty. “Is there anything you need?” she asked coyly, moving closer again, her gaze soft. “You act as if you are uncomfortable. There is no need to be shy under my roof. I can give you whatever you wish for, if only you ask.”

Some space? Daugi? That was what he truly wanted. Fenn bit his lip, stuck as to how to safely answer her — how to articulate his thoughts so that she would listen.

Both of their heads swivel to one of the chambers exits as an abrupt tumult echoed down into the cave. Baying, whining, the thundering of hooves pawsteps away from the cave — a fight brewed, and wolves were involved. Having Daugi for a companion allowed him to recognize the sounds even as distorted as they were. Fenn flinched and huddled against the wall, praying that his direwolf buddy wasn't somehow involved in the fight. It was be just like her to discover him missing and decide to mount an attack on those holding him captive.

Enthusiasm shifted over to anger as Myra glanced towards the source of the calamity that seemed to fade away into the distance. “More company,” she murmured, her brow furrowed. She ran her hands through her flyaway hair, smoothing it down, mulling over something grave. There was genuine concern in her eyes as she turned back to Fenn, which took him by surprise. “Our hunt must wait.” He breathed a shaky sigh of relief as Myra busied herself in hiding him. As bare as the room was, there was really only one place she could keep unseen. Warm hands swaddled and hide him in a mound of furs without a warning, burying him beneath a mound of fur and fluff. When they brushed up against his nose, he couldn’t help but sneeze. Fenn poked his head out of the pile curiously only for her to push him back under the stuffy pelts. “Stay where they will not find you. I will take care of this.”

So long as he wasn't going to get hurt. Fenn sighed and stayed obediently underneath the pelts. He shivered in silence as she strode through one of the corridors out of the chamber, ready to face who or what was intruding on her haunt so.