Lion Head Mesa yuki 雪女 onna

you let yourself grow cold here, satsu. is it to make your husband's arms feel warm? the voice carried along the hall; the coyote watched as the queen startled, attributing the deep shiver to surprise rather than the descent of winter.

they did not wait for an answer.
snaking from an alcove to follow dutifully at the hocks of the dainty queen, jawahir prodded their cold nose against her hip, earning a glare.
my, so touchy! have you lain with him? you look no more ripe than usual, tsk.

a chuckle bubbled in the courtesan's chest. no, no, you would not, even on your wedding day, i bet.