Deepwood Weald [M] To the sound of the bird that mourns

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It was midday before it dawned on Simbelmyne- she’d been in an exceptional mood from the moment she had opened her eyes, but had felt oddly possessive of Dutch. She suggested an outing, to the dark woods just a bit further inland, past the borders where Moontide made its claim. 

The sun was at its peak in the sky, sending shattered sunlight through the cedar in tall, straight beams. When she looked to @Dutch on most days, her heart surged with happiness and hope. When she looked to him now- she felt an aching desire. 

She felt herself become ready, and uttered a soft, purring growl as she led him through the shafts of light and swirling mists. She was glad, now, that she had insisted they go on an outing- she wanted all of his attention.