Snippet #2475526

After Elizabeth had spoken Flint wasn't entirely sure what to say, the past five years he'd lived in the mountains was mostly due to the fact of him being shunned from his own people, and the fact that she was now asking about his past made him extremely uncomfortable. Immediately he pulled out his familiar piece of wood and began whittling away like crazy, something he was rather sure that by this time Elizabeth recognized as a nervous habit of his. “Well, are you interested in how I met the damned witch or just my past in general?” Flint asked meekly back, hoping Elizabeth wasn’t interested in his past. He was almost positive if she'd found out about who he truly was shed completely hate him, hell, she might even just kill him on the spot.