Luneshale Pass [m] body right teeth white knife sharp gettin'

“A gift from who?” He tilts his head, eyeing her body. He plucked at a berry, pausing to see it gleam in the light of their festivities before moving it to the cusp of her pretty mouth.

“What is your name, desert flower?” He watched eagerly with touch withheld, save for the lightest trail of one shadowy claw up her foreleg, allowing the heat of her belly to inflame senses already ignited by his dance with the Queen.