Firefly Ravine douvanjou a

mireille was rounded and fiercely so, approaching the end of her pregnancy. she had excavated a den in the tangle, going as firmly to ground as her instincts demanded. spotted with soil and thirsty, the obsidian found herself seized by restlessness.
as the evening fell, she found herself beside rushing water, surrounded by the gentle pulse of fireflies. the beauty of the contrast stunned her; mireille was moved, and with churning emotions she drank deeply.
she thought of val.