#faeritael

Maya could smell him on the breeze. The storm was rolling in, and normally it would be the rain she could smell coming in from the west, but today, there was another scent that was rolling in. One that was nearing her as she loaded her car up with supplies.

She didn't want to have to come out in the storm. Which to be honest, wasn't unusual for Maya. She rarely went into town unless she had to.

But as she smelt him, she was instantly regretting her choice to be in town today.

She hadn't had much interaction with other Wolves, she tried to keep all interaction to a minimum, fearful of what she may do to them when she shifted.

She still had little control over what she was. And the thought of hurting someone terrified her.

But with another wolf in the area, she suddenly felt protective over these strangers. What if he was like the one that attacked her?

Standing up straight, she turned her head, looking for the unfamiliar face, but familiar scent.

"I was- I don't- I don't know how I got here." Adamaris said. She was unable to stop herself from shivering in the cold as she stumbled out of the ocean and onto the beach in her jeans and Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. She coughed up a bit of salt water and felt her wounds from the fight with the Minotaur start to close with the healing from the ocean. She'd lost her celestial bronze knife in the waves and upon coming to the beach she found herself face to face with a stranger.

"I need help. Can you help me?" She asked.

Merlin's brow furrowed. Did Arthur truly believe that was the only reason they'd been wed? Of course it is, said a little voice in the back of his head. He knows nothing of our destiny. Not for the first time, Merlin wished he could just tell Arthur everything: about the dragon deep beneath the castle and his predictions for the future, about the prophecy that held their lives together, about the magic that even now coursed through his veins. It had been difficult enough to keep the secret--and many times in his youth, he had failed: many in his village, aside from his mother, knew the truth. But hiding it from Arthur was the hardest thing Merlin had ever done.

"One, or two. Perhaps three, depending on who it is, though I can't say for sure. I rarely make it past one." A small smirk of self-deprecation graced her lips before she turned to look at him curiously. "Is there a specific young lady you wish you take to the dance floor, Lord Bridgerton? Whispers notwithstanding." Her eyes flick back to the attendees, dressed in glittering gowns and the most regal of attire. Carefully, blue eyes scanned the faces of the other debutantes, trying to guess which one could've possibly caught the viscount's eye.