Halfway down, Eric stopped and stared at her, an awestruck look in his eyes. “What is it?” she asked.
“Your hair. Even in moonlight . . . it looks like sunshine. I’d never have to go outside again if I was with you.”
She tugged him forward. “I think you hit your head in your heroic struggles.”
“You were the heroic one,” Eric said, stepping around a rock bend. “Reminds me of the stories from Russia my grandmother used to tell me. You know any of them? Vasilisa the Brave?”
“Nope. My family’s from Romania. Never heard of any Vasilisa.” Looking up, Rhea stare up at the sky thoughtfully. “But I kind of like that name.

Autor: Richelle Mead