She had broken her self imposed exile. The desert nights were cold, left frost on the windows, seeped past the door and burrowed deep in her bones. She had to flee, she reasoned with herself, for the sake of the reptile she was and not the woman she pretended to be.
If you lied to yourself long enough eventually the lies become truths. Medusa had been lying to herself for centuries and she was still waiting, still hoping for the lies to shed their skins and become something else entirely.
Or was she? Her contribution, her presence at this showing said otherwise.
"If she had a name I never learned it. It didn't seem fair to give her one. To try and replace what she might have had."