Geneva stood still, conscious of the water pooling at her feet as she felt Jefferson's eye really look at her for the first time. It was the moment she had been avoiding for weeks, but there was no turning back now. She was equally stunned by how quickly his demeanor changed. He had gone from one thousand miles away to critical in only a second, the sorrow washing off his features to be replaced with shock. She idly noted that she had never seen this expression on his face before - she had surprised him, certainly, but abject shock was something completely different.
And underneath it all, genuine concern lingered in his tone, which perhaps shocked her as much as her scars had shocked him. She didn't know if it was a break through, if she had penetrated the wall he kept erected so tightly around himself. But why would he worried about her? There had been danger at the borders of his lands, but the concern hinted at something deeper. She didn't want to think about it, didn't have time as the Patriarch stumbled through his sentences.
Before she knew it, she was fumbling with her own words, trying to explain. "It was.." she swallowed. "A few weeks ago, there was a wolf at the borders. He seemed strange, not quite right in the head, you know?" She didn't stop to see if he would answer her question. "We had an altercation there. I was lucky that DaVinci got there when he did." She was quiet for a moment, the meaning of her own words hitting her like a rogue train again. She still hated to acknowledge her own mortality, hated to realize how insignificant and fragile her life was. It no longer scared her, but left her with a burning sense of shame. "Don't be angry with DaVinci," she said quickly, her eyes jumping to meet his own eye. "I asked him not to tell you. The shame of it..." She just shook her head.