Samantha Ford - famed tamer of beasts, captor of criminals, breaker of hearts - was not prepared to have any kind of interaction with her prey. She was not prepared to be addressed or carry on a conversation or even be noticed, and especially did not expect to recognize the beast so well. So when Samantha Ford saw her former partner staring towards her and speaking to her directly, she became overwhelmed and threw up on the spot.
The girl choked for a minute, coughing, then took a step back as she clasped her hand over her mouth, pulling at the moisture on the corners of her lips with her thumb and forefinger. She'd barely understood what he'd said, too overwhelmed by trying to make sense of the situation. She hadn't seen him in six months, and here she'd been ready to kill him if necessary, her wand still ready in her right hand. Worse still, she hadn't even recognized him. He, the man who had shared her bed for so many nights, the wolf who had run at her side, the hunter who had helped pin down countless savages - the prey she was about to mark down in her little black book as one of them. Just another wolf, another half-breed abomination.
Except he wasn't.
Just the thought of what she had been about to do, the way she had thought of him, it threatened to make her sick all over again. Instead she fought it, fingers still shielding her lips as her dark eyes bore through the night towards him. The cloak's hood had fallen as she'd jerked forward in nausea moments before and now rested softly around her neck like a coiled serpent, showing her face to him finally. How long had he known? Did he see her as he left the apothecary? Recognize her as he turned a corner? See her slip in to the shadows near his flat? Did he think she was following him on purpose?
Samantha began to open her mouth, letting out little more than an "Ah-" noise as she did so. There would be no response, not with words. She had already responded in a sense anyway, physically and awkwardly and she was certain he would have seen, or heard, or smelled. Samantha Ford, famed huntress, brought to her knees again and again by the wolf that should have been her prey.
No, she was the prey. Perhaps by accident or circumstance, but she was the prey.
Without a word she stepped forward in to the light, lowering her head in surrender.
dulcius ex asperis
chief, werewolf capture unit
"And her last words - 'I'll see you down in History, it's the only way we can go.'"