Alpine Lake Walk a tightrope on a razor's edge.

there is a cloud upon the water's edge.

pale man, large, his pelt voluminous like beautiful cumulus masses, those harbingers of rain. she watches him from across the lake, then begins to round it, keeping her eyes trained upon him as she does so.

warrior, she thinks. a waste if he wasn't, given his size. handsome, and not so old. she's lain with ugly souls and has taken her pleasure there well enough. . .but she much prefers a chiseled visage, a rugged frame.

he fits this preference to perfection.

rajul min jurjia, anarkali sings out, leaving the shelter of the brush and appearing into view several paces from him. she has not made much effort to keep her approach silent, so by now, he must have some idea of what is to come.

but the jewel is full of secrets—secrets he will not, cannot know until he cracks her open.