Where the Dark Stands Still

by A.B. Poranek

He grimaces. “I preferred you when you were quiet.” “And I preferred you when you were a deer.”

“If I look like a monster,” he says roughly, “then no one will be surprised when I do monstrous things.”

“I must tell you, my dear fox,” says the Leszy, “that you deserve someone far better than me. And yet—” His fingers brush the tip of her ear, linger there. “And yet, and yet and yet, I am a selfish creature, and I do not want to let you go.”