Lucius got startled as the figure suddenly turned to him. He braced himself for what he might see, for what might happen. The moment felt like an eternity, as he held his breathe. But to his relief, it didn't have a decomposed face, it didn't have freaky signs over its face, it didn't have blood everywhere.. He sighed relieved. It was just a woman, with  a strange  aura. Something about her was pulling him closer to her, or so it felt. He still stood on the same place, but he as mesmerized by her. Were it the innocent looking brown eyes or the lovely contrast they made with her pale skin which almost looked like marble in this wondrous moonlit night?  Was it the marvellous black hair, which couldn't have been a bigger contrast with his own white hair? Or perhaps her elegant and gracious form. He didn't know what it was. It made him forget to breathe for a moment. Maybe, it had even been her voice, angelic, perfectly matching her whole look. How could he have thought she might be a possessed being, a ghost or some awful creature wanting to hurt him in numerous ways?  Lucius had completely forgotten that this was actually a dream, that this was far from reality itself. He was so focused on her, he even felt shy, as she stood there, gently inviting him to enjoy the view with her. And he, the fool he was, was too surprised to even answer her. He was just staring at her, unable to believe he was really seeing her, that she was really asking him to join her, to enjoy the view. But whatever view could be nicer, than the view he had right now? Whatever view could she offer, which would be worth diverting his glance from her? He could not think of such. And why, why would such a lovely creature, such a delicate flower be out here in the open, with nothing and nobody to protect her if anything went wrong? What a lovely life she must lead, not knowing of the dangers, to be out alone at night, with such a marvellous moon and such a delightful meadow, whilst Lucius knew that werewolves and other beings alike were just as fond of these settings. And they would be just as fond of having her here, but more for a midnight snack than for her incomprehensible beauty. She had to be innocence itself,  to be here and to be so carefree, so gentle. He could not find words to reply to her, he could not find strength in his body to move at all. What was this spell she had cast on him, rendering him so utterly useless? He just couldn't help himself, as she seemed to fit<span style="font-style: italic">the</span>image, that which he would call perfection.<span style="font-style: italic">'Is this a dream'</span>, he began to wonder,<span style="font-style: italic">'or am I really this lucky? Could I really be this lucky?'</span>