One of the many problems with mortals, to Thorn's mind, was the short window in which they took the stories passed down to them as true, especially those containing serious warnings. Given a hundred years to water them down, and you had a young carpenters apprentice cutting indiscriminately in the old woods, ignoring the tales told him by his master about the blackthorn trees found at its heart. They were stories, after all, and foolish to be taken seriously by the young.
One tree, taken with reverence and sacrifice, could be allowed. Two if the taker at least believed the old ways, or showed some cleverness. The lad in question had been greedy, though, and that was what drew Thorn's personal attention to him.
It was in pursuit of this boy that he found the village. It was unfortunate, really, that he'd have to see to the carpenter as well as his apprentice, to be thorough. The boy had committed the offense, but the old man hadnt been thorough enough in his teaching in the first place, if his apprentice could discard it so readily- if his blood lust was sated there, well, then maybe the family could be left alone. Thorn could be reasonable, for a fae, you didnt always need to salt the earth.
What saved them was chance. That he chose a path leading through the market, that it was peak hours, and that his eye passed over, and then was caught, by the sight of the florist at his stall. Vengeance was all well and good, but here was something far more interesting. Older than many of his kin, Thorn was well versed in picking out the Sighted, and this boy glowed with it.
A change in plans for the day, then.
Invisible to anyone else, Blackthorn approached at a leisurely pace, knowing well that all 7 feet of him would be seen by his intended, and dangerously curious, as was the way of his kind, at what effect that would have.
"Now you are a strange flower, to be found in this garden, surrounded by so many weeds."
