Watcher in the Wood

I've been watching her for weeks. The first female of her tribe to patrol my wood. Look at the way she moves. She has taken to holding the hilt of her sword, perhaps to keep it from rattling in its scabbard as she walks. She moves closer. The moonlight gleams in her hair. She is the first to come to my wood. I wonder they'll send another when this one does not return. I move, just a little. Just enough to break a frozen twig. There, her eyes are lifting. Higher. Higher.

"Hello, my lovely."