Blackfoot Forest and we danced

So absurdly confident was she in that the Rosings was a safe haven that she didn't bother to open her eyes even at the utterance that belonged to a complete stranger. She could sense him seating himself next to her and she was slow to give him any sort of acknowledgement; when at last her sea glass eyes opened the parting of her lashes was slow, calculated, and methodically calm. "I'm no medic so I cannot diagnose your condition," she spoke with the natural, drawling style of her southern roots. "But I'd suggest seeking help immediately. You're apparently colorblind." She would not stoop so low as to offer her emotional weakness to someone she didn't know. A different part of her, the kind that rose like a phoenix from the ashes in the company of men, stirred in her gut and set flame to the faze that beheld this new wolf in her life. 
 
She stood and gestured to herself with the slow swipe of cheek to unscarred shoulder...the languidness of her touch giving her time to lock eyes with her fellow canine. She was testing the waters with him...pinging for any sort of roused interest that might show on his face toward her actions. A grin teased the black lines of her lips and she lifted her head to tip it sideward in a feigned gesture of girlish innocence. "See? No blue here."