There you are..

Sharn whispers as she carefully takes a step to the side, hiding behind a thin birch tree. Dead leaves faintly rustle beneath her foot, the doe's ears perking up in response, searching for the sound. The forest air smells of pine and damp earth, the setting sun casting long shadows through the trees.

Slowly, Sharn reaches for one of the many arrows on her back before bringing it into position. The doe has already focused back on the fresh grass beneath its hooves, eating - not aware of the sharp steel pointed right at it. Sharn's yellow eyes are narrowed, focused, as she increases the tension on the bow. The wood of the bow creaks softly under pressure, her calloused fingers gripping tightly.

Deep breath in..

Sounds of splashing water not far from the scene, clear and rhythmic like someone moving in a pool.

Release.

...

But the doe has already taken off, frightened by the sudden noises. The arrow lands in the ground, just a few feet away from where the doe was standing. Sharn grunts in frustration as she lowers her bow, her eyes rolling backwards. The scent of pine now mixes with the faint smell of freshwater carried on the breeze.

Then again, that sound.

Sharn turns her head to the side, listening with curious but alarmed eyes. After having taken back the arrow meant to be stuck in the doe's heart, she nocks it again, clamping it into position. Quietly, she starts walking, following the sounds. It doesn't even take her a minute to reach this hidden lake, the water shimmering behind the trees like liquid gold in the sunset light.

Sharn keeps walking, her steps well thought through, ready to let loose of that arrow at whomever may try something. She walks past clothes carelessly thrown over a branch - fine elven fabric that shimmers even in the dimming light. Her yellow eyes widen not at the few pieces of fabric, but at the figure walking further into the water as the setting sun shines an ethereal glow on the stranger's skin.

Almost like she's been captivated in a trance, the orc slowly lowers her bow, taking note of the person's - the woman's - features and movements. The pointy ears, that effortless grace as she moves. Sharn knows what she is. Sharn knows what her ancestors have done. Sharn knows that her sworn enemy is right there in front of her, alone, helpless.

But still, the orc keeps her bow lowered. Just standing there, staring. Letting her eyes wander over the elven woman's bare back, lips parting just slightly. The water ripples around the elf's body, catching the last rays of sunlight and making her skin seem to glow.

Then the woman's head turns sharply, her eyes meeting Sharn's as they widen in surprise. An arrow right between her eyes - that's how this should end. But all she does is raise her bow again, trembling lightly. Never has she seen such beauty before, never has she found herself unable to finish the job.

What.. - Sharn clears her throat, gulping. Don't move. Her hand keeps trembling, her grip tightening on the bow until her knuckles whiten. Yet the other woman doesn't seem bothered, not at all. Do you hear me, elf?! She adds, shouting in false confidence. I - I will shoot you. The orc then threatens. But she's always been a bad liar.