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accidentalrebellion[Over the past several months, she's settled into a routine.
Not an easy one, by any means; willingly sharing what's so dear to her was never something she was born to do. After all, her first impulse has always been to be wary rather than trusting, guarded rather than open, an impulse that only strengthened exponentially after her father's death. But the boy she met in the woods that day had knowledge, knowledge she wanted and needed, and she'd had no choice but to agree to this arrangement. Shooting lessons and secrets in exchange for snares.
An arrangement that, despite its obvious associated reservations, has served her well. Food is on the table more consistently than it has been in a long time. She's been able to navigate the woods much more effectively than she ever did on her own. And, some part of her, buried deep, barely touching conscious awareness, has to admit that the company hasn't been unwelcome.
Complete trust, though, is not something she's ready to give to the boy with the snares.
It's spring now. The morning air doesn't have quite the same bite to it as she sets on her way, passing through the Meadow before slipping under the fence. Refreshing, really; just a few lungfuls is enough to practically make every cell in her body come to life. To add a quickness and lightness to her steps that's usually missing through most of winter.
There's no one else in sight. Just her, and some of the snares she'd set up the day before. He's supposed to meet her here soon, if he isn't somewhere around already, but for the moment, she doesn't look for him, instead opting to bend down for a closer look at the snares and beginning to set about her day's work.]
Not an easy one, by any means; willingly sharing what's so dear to her was never something she was born to do. After all, her first impulse has always been to be wary rather than trusting, guarded rather than open, an impulse that only strengthened exponentially after her father's death. But the boy she met in the woods that day had knowledge, knowledge she wanted and needed, and she'd had no choice but to agree to this arrangement. Shooting lessons and secrets in exchange for snares.
An arrangement that, despite its obvious associated reservations, has served her well. Food is on the table more consistently than it has been in a long time. She's been able to navigate the woods much more effectively than she ever did on her own. And, some part of her, buried deep, barely touching conscious awareness, has to admit that the company hasn't been unwelcome.
Complete trust, though, is not something she's ready to give to the boy with the snares.
It's spring now. The morning air doesn't have quite the same bite to it as she sets on her way, passing through the Meadow before slipping under the fence. Refreshing, really; just a few lungfuls is enough to practically make every cell in her body come to life. To add a quickness and lightness to her steps that's usually missing through most of winter.
There's no one else in sight. Just her, and some of the snares she'd set up the day before. He's supposed to meet her here soon, if he isn't somewhere around already, but for the moment, she doesn't look for him, instead opting to bend down for a closer look at the snares and beginning to set about her day's work.]
