Emberflame Ridge Getting Busy with a Bad Perfume

The more he grew closer the more forboding he became. The air snapped and crackled with a tension she wasn't sure was entirely caused by the storm. 
There was a sensation of being in very real danger here but, always a victim of her own concience, she chose to ignore it. 
It was what had made Donovan persue her. It was that, and the good looks she posessed, the beauty she knew she could do nothing about (though the raw wounds on the inside of her legs would claim otherwise).
She watched carefully as he approached, soft blues silently screaming please don't hurt me. 

Her breath climbs back into her chest when, although he ignores her hello, asks her mildly about the weather. 
She blinks a moment, unsettled, not expecting something so mild. Not altogether ungrateful for it, of course, and looks were certainly not all there was to a person, but still slightly surprised. 

She casts a glance back up the ridge, as though the clouds will divulge their secrets to her. 
"Depends how the wind blows, I guess." 
The gods did not tell her their plans, after all.