Stone Circle Not the first not the last

“Ohhh I don’t know about that. I think if I got one full night’s sleep I could do anything in the world! I could sprout wings and fly away,” she cackles and weaves a little circle around Faðir. 

Her own steps were not so agile anymore, the fullness of her middle swaying awkwardly along with her trot. Eventually they both needed to catch breath. She was badly out of shape.

“What do you think of Fig?” She asks as their shoulders collide among the laurels. She lets the side of her face sink into his familiar sturdiness, as always he would be.