Luneshale Pass [aaf] the weight of history

Toula spun gracefully away. His eyes above a widening smile burned. She taunted him. She smelled so sweet. He wanted more. Who was she?

He rejoined the steps, swaying again in proper rhythm with the other skirting pairs until the dance asked them to entwine.

“I am your's to know. All of me,” he urged into the smooth side of her elegant neck. “Meet me,” He breathed as again she was taken from him. Out in the crowd eyes glittered. All were upon her.