1.) Deep wilderness it was not; an hour’s walk would bring one to a dirt road, and an hour’s drive from there would end up in a moderately sized town. Still, such distances didn’t make much difference in a place where there were no trails and hunting was prohibited. Nobody, save one, would seek out this side of the mountain’s base, and if they happened upon it by accident, there was no reason that they should look twice at the natural rock formations there.
2.) All of the horses in the stable technically belonged to her, but there were two intended particularly as her mounts alone, and she could take only one on the journey. Rutherford, her hunter, was the obvious choice, but Jia couldn’t help lingering at the stall of her beloved white mare, whom she might never see again.
3.) Missions in Cleveland usually followed a routine: disturbance, research, a lead, a plan, a team sent in to gut open whatever had caused the disturbance. This time, most of the middle steps had been dropped. Faith would never have said so, but she liked it better this way.
4.) When Buffy evacuated with her newly-minted army of Slayers the light came flooding in, and the poet in Spike couldn’t help but regret the irony, so often had he thought of her as the sole illumination of his life.
What the...four? I have four WIPs? Did I lose some? Are they just in some folder where I never look? Maybe I finished some of the ones I used to think of as my long-lasting WIPs? I can't even tell if this is depressing or uplifting. Four. Damn.