Blackfoot Forest [m] I think that she knows, can't keep sealed tight

As if summoned by her thoughts — or perhaps she should have expected this, expected him and the tease in his voice as he called her girl. Reverie had lived her whole life under the soft hunger of men's eyes upon her. Each thought himself different than the last, better, but she'd learned that a man would justify anything for his lust in the end.

Or his lack.

So his presence was met with disdain, a haughty toss of her gilded ruff. I don't think you know what kind of woman I am at all, Reverie challenged softly, at once agitated and oddly thrilled by the notion that he'd followed her here. Her tail flagged in windswept amber and gilded pearl above her hips. Whether I'm alright or not, I can take care of myself.