Fairspell Meadow Come to me now and lay your hands over me

Though the evidence mounted that she was being tempted into confrontation, Scorpion seemed unable to conclude that it was time to abandon her pursuit of the stark and wily wolf. For she could not see his deliberateness for what it truly was — not when her eyes could focus only on the audacity of it all. His seemingly incurious behavior stoking a jealous firepit in the girl’s belly.

How was that bush a more interesting thing to smell than her? Her thoughts raged stormily and spewed vitriol, poisoning her into making the dangerous choice to confront him; the desperate, needy thing that she was.

Good or bad, she craved interaction.

Scorpion sidled closer, rounding through the grasses until she was coming towards him, from the opposite end of his preferred bush. It didn’t matter if he saw her now — she wanted him to — and with the shrubbery acting as a buffer between them, she peered up at his dark, half-hidden shape through the thinly leafed branches. With a spearing look, she accused him, You messed up my trap.