Light flickers through the Thorns, the angry sun burning through the branches and reflecting off the deadly waters of the river cutting through the Hedge side of Sacramento. It is casting orange and red, refracting on the choppy waters, the light catches Circe's eyes.


Rhodes had departed and her bestie Spring was acting Winter. And Circe wasn't a therapist, though she'd seen Seraphina wasn't happy. She knew the Spring enough to now the Siren was sad.


And what of her Summers? Sticking around for now, but so many in the past had proven to be transient.


Her enemies? Her archnemesis and her minions are all dead. Circe should be adrift without aught to do, without purpose.


A Summer Queen by luck or everyone's lack of interest in the crown. Retained due to being the only Summer to stick it out. Did this make her lesser than other Summer Monarchs? Did the transience of other Summers mark her as a bad leader, unable to force her minions into subservience? To not enforce honor and loyalty through violence and rage?


Were these the thoughts going through her head as she swapped magazines on her AK?


Nope.


Seraphina she'd have girls nights with, offer to take her to a wrecking room, and see what she wanted to do because Springs knew how to cheer up Springs better than Summers. That wasn't easy but it was a plan.


The rifle was aimed at the rancid smelling maw.


Her Summers? Ha! No really, ha ha ha. She'd done the angst number on THAT back after she got the crown without anybody sticking around. And had thoroughly hit fuck it after she'd been the voice of reason and peace at a monarch meeting. Shit happens was her philosophy. Don't think about the fight, fight is fight.


Gunpowder fills the air, along with bullets to perforate the atmosphere with the unpleasant smells of raw shellfish, rotten flesh, and for some reasons daisies.


No arch enemies? You'd be an idiot to complain about success! All that meant was that she could celebrate. Then help her friends with their arch enemies and celebrate. Lather rinse repeat.


The retention thing and her crown? Hell no! Circe found it hilarious how she got the crown. Sure she was laid back for a Summer, came with sniping instead of Leeroy Jenkins she figured. Well, that was how Circe argued it when other Summers asked. Better a respected bash buddy than a tyrant.


A bleeding maw fails to retain a hold on her synthetic padded covered arm. Then a bayonet drives into an eye socket. All the way to her wrists as she pulled the trigger several times.


No, what she was concerned about was where would she find a pot big enough to boil this car sized lobster thing!


Actually no, that wasn't it. As she braces her boot against the carapace of the creature she was worried over getting her gun out. It hadn't moved and a peak over its, head maybe, showed a large hole on the other side.


Splurch sounds lead to free gun. Win! Even if there was a gout of gore that coated Circe in the process. She likes this gun, so win.


Circe had quite the sore set of muscles though. And a gun needing cleaning. Given the sounds from the shores, the corpse was attracting attention.


She didn't even get one of the colorful claws as a souvenir. Folks would be calling bullshit on this story.


Just like with the big ass lizards and the stupid lawyer.


Maybe she should look into some new contracts instead of just the mundane stuff? Perhaps ask the Beasts?


Tearing into foes with tooth and claw could be cathartic...wait. If she goes owl she could totally Hogwarts prank people!