countless grains of sand -- open, snowbound visitors

[Beatrice]

[div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"][align=center]⋆⋆⋆

Alliances, neutral pacts, enemies. These thoughts were not foreign in Beatrice's mind, but this would be her first true experience with the political aspect of these words. Having lived most her life in a peaceful village without politics, she admittedly knew nothing. Granted, she wasn't stupid. She knew not to piss of those you liked and to guard yourself against those who disliked you. She also knew to tread lightly when dealing with those who were undecided against you. The Beast had taught her all of this, and she ate up this knowledge hungrily.

She couldn't lie either: she was curious, and she was drawn forth by their strange scents. Bea had smelled the tundra only once, and that had been when she was crossing through the steal a soul. That job had been miserable, and she prayed her benefactor wouldn't send her back to that horrible place. She shuddered thinking about the freezing weather of late winter.

The she-dog came to a halt beside Caeser, but she kept her distance from the Savannah. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but she was here to keep up appearances. [b]"I'm Beatrice, and that's Caesar. Since he didn't ask, I will! What're your names?" the red heeler questioned, offering the girls a smile of greeting.
[color=#D87921][b]
[color=#D87921][b]