he thought he might leave after her reluctant display, which would have been a relief to her poor heart. Truthfully, Juniper had not had much exposure to males—they were not a popular topic among her sisters, and she was happy with her little coven of witches. They were kind and caring toward her, treating her with respect and tenderness, educating her in the ways of their foremothers.

But before she could sneak away, Rhiannon appeared, inserting herself without hesitation between Juniper and the stranger. Although she looked ferocious, lips curled, a snarl rippling from her throat, Juniper was well-aware that this display was one of protection—for her, of course, and she felt guilty that she would cause her sister any sense of worry.

Already, Rhiannon asked what threat he had made, and Juniper carefully considered her response. She was timid—she knew that, and her posture must have made Rhiannon believe she was in immediate danger. Perhaps she was; perhaps she wasn’t. But, in reality, this stranger did nothing overtly threatening or even rude. It was all in her head, these assumptions, these perceptions. “H-he offered me fish, i-if I wanted,” she spoke, honestly. If anything, she was a girl who was taught to be truthful, candid, even, though she was often unsure of her own feelings.

“He wasn’t mean or anything,” she added, feeling more confident now that her sister was here. “He even said he was sorry for bothering me.” Her words were objective, everything she heard. Juniper was not self-assured enough to render judgment, but she would give the stranger the benefit of the doubt, if it might save him from Rhiannon’s protective wrath.

@Satchel @Rhiannon