Dawn of the Hunters
My brows reach my hairline in surprise, and I can feel myself blush, the heat from embarrassment coloring my cheeks.
Reaching up, the little witch pulls her wolf's head down. Planting a kiss on the side of his cheek then lightly patting it. “Now, now, That’s not going to happen but…” She looks at me smiling, leaving what she was going to say hanging in the air. “We have not been properly introduced. I am Morgan Artos. The last witch of my line.”
“Leneve. Daughter to Nyctimus. Cursed with dark magic.” I reply, not sure how the greeting exchange is meant to go.