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Her scent had caught him as he was heading back to the ranch. She'd passed by there sometime recently, and he could only guess she was not far. It had been weeks since they'd talked, let alone even see each other, and though the Patriarch hesitated and fought with himself to no end, he stepped quietly after her and followed her scent for what seemed like ages. The evening was cool, brisk; the sky was open and clear as night approached, painting the sky with a thousand brilliant colors before settling down and clouding approaching darkness. For a while, he was at peace, hardly noticing that his feet were still moving and his mind had completely paused. ...That is, until he found her.
Her back was to him. The brute hesitated, suddenly regretful of having approached and risking a disturbance to the soothing feel of the night and the tranquility she'd found. He didn't want to start a fight. He didn't want to argue. He just wanted... "Geneva," Jefferson called shallowly, withdrawing into his shoulders. He took a few cautious steps closer, aware that she would be tense with him, but he had to risk it. Guilt was getting to be too heavy a burden for a creature with only one arm to carry it. "Geneva, I'm..." A lightning bug flashed a few inches away, surprising him. He gritted his teeth. "What are you doing out here?"