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fortune from the grave
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The peace was disturbed. Her ears flew up from their lax position and her eyes zeroed in on the parting stalks ahead. She didn’t move anything but her eyes and she watched his approach with intense wariness. She kept her itching hand from settling on the hidden knife tied at her thigh, and though she had started to reach for it, her hand smoothly transitioned and instead settled it lightly against her bandaged ribs in an almost protective manner.
Pausing a safe distance away, he invited conversation with a pointless remark and she blinked her sea-borne eyes slowly, unsure whether she wanted to even entertain his exchange or not. Understandably to a reader, this wasn’t one of Winter’s better days — but she couldn’t have expected him to know what had occurred over the past twenty-four hours. Beautiful, she said finally, turning her eyes away from the tall, sleek man and gazing out into the field of sunflowers. I simply wish I could enjoy it as I should.
She couldn’t afford to be so cold. She wasn’t in the most appropriate state, and she knew a wrong step with the wrong wolf could lead down a dangerous path. The frigid woman kept her wits about her, but managed to remain calm despite the physical and mental stress she continued to endure. Bringing her eyes back to the stranger, she nodded towards him. I’m Wintersea. Who’re you?
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