Hoshor Plains dife

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in a piercing irony, it was the obsidian from the enclave of misandry which dipped first into the springtime heat.
it was not yet dawn on the day to follow the hunt. she had gone off from her camp, restless, and belatedly realized what this must be. the year before had seen her far into spring, but that had been the initiating time. her body responded now to the surges of testosterone on the plains, disgusting and intriguing mireille who truly wanted only one man ever to touch her.
she was a whisk of cinnamon, rolling now in the snow to cool herself.