A pale, shaking hand scratched a match against its box, but the fingers that held it were too unsteady to light it. The hand shook the trembling off, and tried again, with a little more success, as a string of smoke arose from it. Once more, he attempted to light it, and now, it burst out with a small flame, burning orange in the night. It drew near one of the three candles, standing atop a somewhat dusted table, and lit it, repeating the process with the rest just as well. It was finally light enough... Even though the entire hut was broken, cold, and damp, the dim light of the candles brought a little more life into it.<br/><br/>Grian wasn't a sentimental man. He would be well off without light, but he couldn't sew arrow wounds in the light of the dusk, not while he remained in a human body. And so, as he blew the match up, his right hand picked up the piece of fabric, half dipped in a bowl of cold water, and started cleaning the two short, but relatively deep gashes - one under, and one above his wrist. Damn villagers... That time, they were lucky. When his beastly part last ventured to the village, it managed to kill another farmer, but a hunter nearby started shooting arrows at him. Their broken remains were still in the table behind which he sat, and his eyes sometimes wandered to the cold steel tips that he pulled out of his skin.<br/><br/>He flinched a little as he sewed his arm back together. The needle was moving a little shakily in his fingers, going numb from the cold air in the hut, and therefore it was slow, but it advanced steadily. Fortunately, he didn't have to sew long, otherwise he'd most likely rip the thread. The crescent-shaped scratches were sealed, and he was just in the middle of wrapping them when he heard a knock on the door.<br/><br/>Oh no. Who could have...? People rarely came here. Very rarely...<br/><br/>His keen ears picked up a woman's voice. It was raining outside, and he didn't have the heart to let her stand there... On the other hand, this hut was too dangerous for her, whoever she was.<br/>"Go home... Whoever you are, turn away and go home... Please, go home! For your own good!" he called out after her, his voice like the wailing wind behind the windows. Hopefully she'd go away... But the village was far! Could she really go so far alone?<br/><br/>He decided to take a look at the stranger, and silently, walking on the tiptoes of his bare feet, stepped to the door. His pale fingers clenched around the handle and slowly pushed it down, opening the door to a narrow gap. "Go back... You shouldn't be here... There are wolves in the forest..." he whispered, and in his green eyes was despair as he spoke, gazing through that gap at the girl. It was too dark and too rainy to discern the features that were under the hood.