Whinifred took in a deep breath as she sat in the cool spring grass. She pushed her hand through her loose blonde hair, her bangs falling back onto her face after her hand had past. Soft blue and half green eyes scanned over the barren land of Phoenix valley. It was so desolate here in these lands, like an old tapesty the threads were starting to unweave and unless the artist came back and started to put them back together; this peice of art would fall apart. The french women shook her head and put her hands on the ground to push herself up to a standing posistion, her blonde mane brushing her back and rear.
Standing there in with her arms crossed over her chest Fred wondered about the leader of this pack. The man named Jefferson was confusing to her. Then again, she saw things in a narrow minded way and Whinnie knew it. She had to too be a negatiagor. Had to know the right words to say to someone, how to make people change their minds. A smirk took the corner of her mouth. Whinifred knew she would have to play her cards right to make this work.
Moving away from the trees she walked towards the mill. It was rickity and old, but something about the building comforted her. Once she had made it to stand by the old sturcture she put her hand out on the old timber wood and just started at it. The feeling of mold and rotting wood wasn't unpleasent just another reality of what time did to things. When she had left her birth pack she had had a taste of reality, though her life hadn't been completly unpleasent she never would take back the horrible thing she had done, because it gave her great saticfaction for the pain she had caused them. A secret smile pulled up on the young strawberry blonde womens maw, as she stood at the mill with her hand on it.