Moonsong Glacier she’s long gone with her red shoes on

Dated for the afternoon of February 5, 2017.

At the base of the glacier, Lotte dropped her shoulder and rolled. Made feverish by her condition — something she had never experienced and could not fully understand — she snaked her body hard through the snow with unceremonious zeal and a soft thump. The telltale spice of her scent was lost to her as she burrowed through the frost, rooting about with renewed energy. Her moonbright eyes were glassy and watchful and her skin prickled with inexplicable wariness; small, rounded ears swiveled alertly as she warred between eagerly seeking out company and actively trying to avoid notice. She wanted Arturo — perhaps “needed” was a more apt description — but she fought the need as fervently as she fought the fire in her blood. Still, no matter how hard she tried to deny her pull to Ceannasach, her healed paws moved inexorably in his direction. He was fully within his rights to punish her for her unusual flightiness, and again the sensation of conflict filled her wayward heart. She feared his ire — and yet, she was drawn to the idea of the gangster taking her to task. “I like when you are not a gentleman,” she’d told him once, and she relished the thought of his sharply-etched features drawn into hard, implacable lines. What is wrong with me?

With heightened vigor she pushed her body into the snow, paws kneading like a pleased feline’s as she scraped her spine against a shelf of ice and stone. Needing the contact rather desperately, she flipped fully onto her back and began writhing back and forth while undulating growls rippled from her grimacing lips.