Silvertip Mountain warm wine

keyni spoke truly and vividly, committed to each word. each tone of hers was a missive, and merrick greedily ate whatever suppositions he could make about the woman.
she tested him, for she knew he did not yet belong.
the alpine wildflowers and dark forests of pine were tangled into her aura. merrick thought her world must be well established.
"i am on a pilgrimage," merrick told her grandly, the single eye glinting directly into her own measured gaze.