The Sunspire iii. please take my hands

To be dove-colored is her birth-right.

She is the color of a maiden untouched, or wolf-bones after months of sun parching. A yang calling for its counterpart.

And it’s this color that joins them to each other. The procession of shadows in the deep green glen multiply, until he steps forth into her cut of brindled sunlight. A yin to answer.

He is captivated. His approach is fluid yet he’ll make no introduction, only gliding to her side if she does nothing to ward him off.

She has taken the shape of her experiences, he sees the long marks that cross her body, places hardened with scarring and where fur will no longer grow. A life out of balance.

“Don’t I know you?” A melodic voice asks, eyes alight and reaching for the answer with so much intensity.