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Joanie Wicker | The Wicked Witch of the West (wickedwicker) wrote in bellumlogs,

At his instructions, she scoffed. "Yeah, I figured that." Had to have the last word, of course. She followed him briskly, doing her best to carry herself with some form of dignity. Of course, the Wicked Witch had plenty to say about that.

"Don't slouch. You're a witch, for goodness' sakes, look the part." Though such nagging aggravated a slight twitch of her left eyebrow, Joanie straightened up her back as they passed the stable hand that had given them so much trouble. She didn't look at him, but saw the friendly wave of his hand in her peripheral vision.

They finally reached the trees, the dark colors of their clothing blending in with the darkness of the tree trunks. Picking up her skirts in a way that would probably have made a proper lady weep, Joanie crunched clumsily through the snow, glancing over at Sam. "Okay, Master Hunter," she said, starting to wonder if this was really a good idea. "Now what?" She turned to face him, head canted to the side as she rested a hand on her hip. "I'll follow your lead." Yes, that was the "bitch better know what you're doing" pose that every woman had perfected naturally. And it meant that she expected Sam to have a plan.