"Why," Rhea says from the depths of her hood as she moves into the room. "Does it seem like we're the goat staked out in the grove to wait for the tiger?" Her voice had a musical quality that was mirrored as she almost danced into the room. She had been caught while sleeping in a camp on her own, a typical practice of hers. The camping, not the capture. She disliked being the goat waiting to get eaten.<br/><br/>