Silver Moraine I took a pill in Ibiza

She eyed the moraine warily, then heaved a sigh and plopped onto her haunches with a sharp intake of breath when her ribs smarted. The jagged, hilly glacier trail stretched north to south as far as the eye could see and Wildfire was beginning to lose hope. She wouldn't be able to go around, so she would have to cross over. But what with her aching ribs and notoriously clumsy feet, she felt like she could really do some damage. If she hurt herself so badly she couldn't hunt, she would die. It was a big risk. A long, low breath gusted out of her as this reality settled weightily on her slim red shoulders.

For a while, she simply rested, studying the strange landscape a while before easing herself into a supine position. She fell asleep unintentionally, dreaming vividly of getting intimate with someone she took to be Floki at first. In her dreamscape, Wildfire fully welcomed the attention, her hangups having disappeared into the ether. But when he mounted her and she glanced back, she saw that it was Thuringwethil straddling her hips instead. Her eyes widened in surprise and she froze. It felt so illicit, yet Wildfire remained motionless, neither welcoming it nor pulling away.

Out in the real world, her lips parted. She panted, drool beginning to gather and slide down her lip to pool around the cheek pressed to the cold grass.