Firefly Glen caressed my every sense it would allow

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in a cruel twist of fate, her season had come upon her; she assumed it had begun the night of the pink moon but she had been too distraught to notice.  surely now it was too late — not only that but she was alone.  there was no hawthorne to bed her this year, her womb would remain barren.

but her want!  it was building, electric.  she isolated herself from @Phocion and @Cortland, once more stolen into the wilds alone.  

she intended on returning, but she had intended on returning to ironsea, too — still, she considered returning to the sands — though she thought she favored her new company more.

she strolled to the glen late in the evening as the lightning bugs began to emerge, and she breezed gracefully through them as they danced.