Morningside Cuesta Act I, Scene I

She drew no satisfaction from this passive proffer. How many times had she coiled into herself like a wounded fieldmouse before the tread of some dominant creature? An apology she would accept, but she did not wish for his submission. She’d never be a wolf to vie for respect in cowing another.

She lowers herself evenly into her seat and would wait for him to rise.

“A game,” she repeats incredulously. Ah, but he was a boy, and his eagerness to trust was refreshing.

“What kind?” She would ask as a means to indulge him, and perhaps so she might communicate, as an aside, that harm was not done.  And maybe with tickled curiosity too, he was the most interesting creature she’d come across this morning.

Didn’t mean she was going to play, though.