Duck Lake No one dies from love; guess I'll be the first

lestan mayfair had slept in honeysuckle dreams.
he did not feel when reverie rose, did not feel her malaise nor fear; it was only when he reached for her and found her gone that he woke with a start.
her scent hung all over his fur in heavy tendrils. he smiled and leaned back for a moment with closed eyes, remembering —
and then was reminded she was not here and that, secondly, there might be a — small set of repercussions from this! did not all such pleasure end in such a way? it certainly seemed so!
and with his own stomach lurching and his own fear growing, lestan came awake and to his feet and ran to find her, stopping in the glittering snow with a heave of relief to see reverie only —
— dancing.