The wooden door to the small cottage creaked open, and the heavy, copper stench of fresh blood instantly filled the modest living room. Louisa, who had been busy preparing the evening meal near the hearth, snapped her head toward the entrance. Her eyes widened in absolute horror as she saw Ethan standing there, his handsome face and the plain crimson hunter robes of her late father completely saturated in thick, dark blood.
"Ethan!" Louisa cried out, her voice trembling as she frantically dropped her cooking wooden spoon and rushed toward him, her hands hovering over his torso, terrified to touch him. "What happened?! Are you hurt? Where is the wound?!"
