Bitterroot Valley Enter, Pursued by a Memory

“oh, har-har, you think you’re very funny, don’t you?” she shot back—rat bastard was lucky he was so charming. “you’re built like a boulder. saying you look capable ain’t exactly poetry.”

his comment earns him a sharp, incredulous snort. “i’m not a really a ‘hunt on the first date’ kinda gal, so you’ll have to make do.” a smirk, fleeting but real. playful without inviting too much.

he didn’t crowd, which she appreciated, but he drifted just close enough to show interest. the question snags her attention more than the closeness. favorite spot, little thing? she blinked at that, ears giving a tiny startled twitch, but she played it off with a lazy shrug. laying it on thick, this one.

“mm. depends what you mean,” she answered, slipping between two ferns, brushing one aside with a hock. “there’s a grove by the borders. has a willow tree, pretty flowers, good cover.”

she kicked a stone out of her path with a soft scrape. “if i want space to think? the lake. forces you to face yourself. shows you with or without the pretty parts.” a pause, “but if you plan on taking my spot, i do bite.”