Spring had finally sprung. Though the flood had been devastating (in more ways than one), they're resilient folks. Nothing would keep the Armada down for long. Though they weren't back to their best, it was still more than operating condition. Hazel couldn't help the pride that washed over her as she took in the market. A guardian. Right. That felt good, too.
Hazel would never tell you she didn't have an ego. It's healthy. She'd worked her ass off, and here she was-- the ego is deserved in her eyes. That pride, that ego, it pushes her to work harder. To push herself harder. Watching carefully down over the market, it's maybe not the most difficult to find a snake in the grass. Being cased. They were being cased. A prickle running along her spine, something inside her comes to life. A delicate dance... cat and mouse. It's about to start.
Someone is out here. She slipped down from her perch, into the market itself. A prickle down her spine. Life. Hazel comes to life. The steps of a predator, one concealed among the crowd. Hunting. Oh how she hunted.
