Stalker
The lithe figure slunk silently, eyes fixed on her target. She watched as he lazily turned the page of his book. Hypnotized, she watched the wind teasingly blow his golden hair. Well, far be it from her to back down from a challenge! Body tensing, preparing to spring, she—
“Tinúviel! Where have you been?” A pair of arms picked her up, ignoring her shriek of protest. “Are you trying to go after his hair again? Honestly…”
Realizing defeat, she settled into her mistress’s arms, watching regretfully as her quarry continued to read.
Another time, elf. There will be another time.
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March 3, 2005. Written for Ithiliel Silverquill: Glorfindel, reading, and a cat.