Wapun Meadow i can see a white blouse hanging on a windowsill, a naked body on my bed

as a silence strung between them, caiaphas was oddly unaffected. she had lived through many interminable lulls in conversations before -- and truthfully, with all the stress of her life, her mind was elsewhere and certainly not dwelling on the fretful pause that lingered between the two of them like an unacknowledged ghost.

her ears formed perky summits atop her black head as the extent of blondine's offer (was it an offer?) registered in her distant thoughts. she shifted, paw pressing down on her kill as she weighed the woman's proposition.

on the one hand, caiaphas had all but no patience for outsiders anymore. on the other, she had been the matron of saltwinter -- she had shared her home with vagabonds, tired travelers, and thieves - on not one but three separate occasions. but she was also scared; what if blondine was a liar? what if blondine had other intentions, what if her children were harmed?

her gaze narrowed and a cold glint swam in her harsh yellow eyes. "why should i trust you?" the question was posed as blandly as one could pose such a defensive question -- but it was not defensiveness that urged caiaphas to utter it, but a clinical, almost detached interest.