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#12
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She recognized a curious spirit when she saw one. And Ty Nasphrite was definitely cut from the same cloth as she was. But she was glad to see that he had fewer inhibitions. Life was an open book to him. He felt free to wander and take his fill. Geneva almost always tread lightly, letting caution get the best of her. She was slowly growing, becoming bolder and more willing to put things at risk. She had learned through her experiences that life was meaningless without risks.

"It is always good to have a defender waiting in the wings," the gentle woman said. Geneva was not a fighter, at least not physically. She was spirited, but demure. She cared very deeply for her pack and she was glad to see that Ty was willing to defend their land. She was willing to do the same things, she would have been much less effective. Geneva had only ever been in one really violent situation in her three years of life, and she had been severely injured.

She laughed at the young man's antics, glad to see that he was so at ease. She rested her head on her paws and looked at him from there so he wouldn't have to strain his neck. "I have been here, as part of Phoenix Valley, since March," Geneva said. She hadn't been part of the pack for too terribly long, but she felt as though she had been here for years. This place had become home to her, finally home to her. "But I've been in Nova Scotia since November."
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