She saw him in the forest for the first time in years, ambling.
Perhaps that was the wrong word. Gaara of the Desert does not amble. He strides, or he stalks, or he saunters. Amble? Absolutely not.
But whatever the case, there he was, all alone. Away from the throngs of advisors and flocks of adoring children and hordes of fan girls. No one to obstruct her view.
She liked it better this way. She liked it less when he stopped ambling – or whatever he was doing – and raised his gaze from his feet to where she was hidden in the foliage. There were no words spoken; his voice was not required to deliver this message. A single glance informed her that he was aware of her presence, and also served to warn her away, probably on pain of death.
Gaara of the Desert had a lot to learn about Haruno Sakura.
His expression didn't change when she materialized in front of him; indeed, he looked as stoic as ever. Sakura's expression, however neutral, did little or nothing to equilibrate the aggressive stance her body had taken.
Lesson 1: There can only be one winner, and she has pink hair.