Out of the frying pan, into the fire

[Geneva Stockholm]

[html]

She could feel the salt, thick in the air like another's breath. It clung to the air, clung to her skin. It was almost uncomfortable, like someone breathing down her neck. The slim gray wolfess tread slowly, still mindful of dull twinges in her shoulder and side. She walked on four legs, her mind not really lingering on anything for too long. She had needed an escape from Phoenix Valley, finding it almost impossible to avoid Jefferson at this point. She hadn't seen him since before the incident at the borders and hoped to keep it that way. She had spent much of her recovery time in the Ranch, and had been lucky not to run into the one-eyed Patriarch. Still, with the sun high in the sky, it seemed a good opportunity to escape his attention while she still could. Geneva had considered going to Crimson Dreams to visit Savina and her pups, but found that she was instead in the mood for solitude. She stayed inside herself, without much to ponder in particular. She had done her thinking about the attack and the strange animal with the yellow eyes. And while she was still frightened and still woke at night with her heart pounding from relived dreams of the incident, she could rationalize now. She could remove herself, step back and think logically. She considered the way he had acted, the words he had spoken. Had there been a way to get through to him? She felt nauseous just at the thought of facing him again. She felt the sand on the pads of her feet, small grains shifting as she stepped. Green eyes looked down at her feet, noting the trail she had left behind in the semi-slick sand. It was almost low tide, the ocean drawing back into itself. She saw the mouth of a cave in the distance, behind high rocks, and was content to sit and ponder its mysteries. She would rather not explore today, and instead let her imagination take her far-off, unknown places. It was far safer that way.

[/html]