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He landed not far away and walked towards me, talons rasping on the floor and wings folding with a susurrus whisper. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run as the Iyarri approached me, each of his movements poised and deadly. It was his expression that softened my fear—questioning and longing and hopeful all at once. He appeared to be in his thirties; the planes of his face were strong, his eyes intelligent. His mahogany hair was pulled into a braid at the nape of his neck, but shorter strands fell level with his cheeks.<br /> I tried to find my voice, but it failed me as he closed his clawed hands around my shoulders and turned me so my face was in the moonlight.</p> <p>--- Heaven's Silhouette: Iyarri Chronicles Book 1