With a happy hum, I walk closer to the water and realize I’m not alone. Someone is standing by the creek, with his back turned to me, wearing only a hoodie that makes me shudder at the thought of how cold he must be. His broad shoulders are slumped, his head hangs, and he radiates the complete opposite of Christmas cheer.
“Sorry. I didn’t know someone else was here,” I blurt, and he stiffens when he hears my voice.
I grimace, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut and had just turned and left without drawing attention to myself. The guy must be an Eldin—even if I can’t make out which one of them just by looking at his back. Except for my family, the only people ever coming to this clearing are the Eldins, my parents’ neighbors and mortal enemies for over a decade.
“Try opening your eyes,” the guy grunts.
His harsh tone and the annoyance rolling off him in waves make me wince and step back. “Sorry, sorry. Just needed a moment’s peace and quiet, but I’ll leave you to it. I’m sorry.”