Heron Lake Plateau always time for second guesses

WC: 593

She had expected more from his attention. More interest, at the very least. The men she was accustomed to were always staring at her or talking with her husbands, in no uncertain terms, about what they would do to her if given the chance - what they would give to have one hour, one night, to corrupt and lay waste to every little piece of her. The kindness that Phox had shown her in their short time together might've been right, in the sense that it was more wholesome than anything she could remember, but it wasn't natural in the world that she came from. There was always a price. There was always something that men would want in return. To be refused in that sly manner, that innocent way of a boy without a clue — it stung because it was so unfamiliar to her; Camilla's entire self-worth was denoted by men, discussed by men, traded around by men, and yet this boy was telling her otherwise. He didn't want her.

Camilla felt the stinging of water in her eyes - the kind of tears that could easily be explained away by the blustering of the cold air across the plateau, the kind that caress your face and chill your skin to the point where the eyes water, just water. She blinks away the moment; her vision clears and she's staring at the ground, jarred from her thoughts in the next moment by Phox's voice — the howl making her jump out of her skin at first. She swallows a lump in her throat and presses her shoulder against him, sharing his warmth since she can't share anything else. And she wonders as she waits - she thinks about those names he'd spoken and the people he's brought her to. If The Company has infiltrated this pack, exposed as it is, then whose to say she's truly safe here?

There was a returning call - not too far from them, so they would only spend a few moments together in awkward silence - and  before she knew it, a wolf was striding towards them. Their coat was a blazing shade of burnished gold, and the closer she got the more Camilla wanted to look at them —  at her; she stole glances, catching sight of the copper tone of the woman's face first, the fierce shade of her eyes. What made Camilla stare wasn't the woman's natural beauty but, rather, the way she composed herself. The confidence and power exuded in her movement. The way she waited for an explanation, perhaps waiting to be given leave to speak —  but no, that wasn't it. Even her silence was different. It was charged, it drew attention, demanded answers. Camilla found herself watching the stranger more directly than she meant to, and when Niamh looked at her she ducked her head and looked away. 

The strangeness of a powerful woman could not thwart the months of conditioning done to her. She should have been impressed by Niamh, and maybe to some degree she was, but there would always be a man to answer to. As far as Camilla was concerned, this woman was awaiting orders from Phox, or was the property of some other man — and yes, there was a male scent carried upon the golden woman, and the presence of it relaxed Camilla a little bit more than it should. She still locked her eyes upon the soil at her feet, pressed against Phox, her savior and protector, and waited for the man to speak.