As one of the Southlands' few clear months, this one had given them a bright morning.
When sunlight fell on the Red Witch's hair, her fiery locks seemed to turn to flame. Paired with her aggressive, pale-red eyes, they made her look like a blazing fire.
She wore a red Mage Robe. As the bards said, plenty of people put on a Mage Robe to pass themselves off as a mage. But she had also strapped an incongruous belt and a dagger over it—both red. No mage would have worn that.
As Annan watched the Red Witch, she studied him in turn.
Still just as tall, but even more fresh and tempting than two years ago... With that thought, the Red Witch opened her mouth and bit Annan's cheek.
"What are you doing?"
Annan tried to push her away, but she was as strong as a Dragon and would not budge. Only when her bite drew blood and his Mage Robe automatically activated a defensive spell did she release him. She licked away the blood, then casually poked through the spell.
"Lovely greeting. Don't do it again."
Annan wiped the saliva from his cheek in disgust, but the neat row of teeth marks remained.
He had once suspected the Red Witch was a Red Dragon, or at least a sorcerer with Red Dragon blood. Now he was almost certain...
"That's for following me," the Red Witch said with a knowing half-smile.
"I'm only here for the celebration..." Annan stepped into the room, shut the door, and changed the subject. "What are you doing here?"
"Pirates on land are land pirates!" The Red Witch planted a boot on a chair. No mage wore tall leather boots under a Mage Robe.
"You mean thieves?"
"Mm-hmm."
It was just as Annan had thought.