Fire Woman


Perceptive Pot Clueless Kettle

Sabine cursed under her breath as she crouched beside the front tire of her electric blue Fatboy.  The lowering timbre of whistling signaled that most of the air had finished escaping the puncture.  She stood up, arched her back, then pulled the hair tie off that held her fire-red hair from getting in her face.  The mass of curls immediately came to life and bounced around her shoulders.  She took off her leather riding jacket and laid it across the gas tank.

She gave the flattened tire a kick with her leather boot then strode from the air pumps of the gas station to the driveway entrance and looked down the stretch of black top to the east.  She squinted her eyes to try to make out any movement along the highway amidst the witch’s water that rose above the asphalt.  She cursed again.  How could she have been so…

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