Broken Antler Fen tinsel

#1

last year this glissade of citrus-glow warmth had been met by bronco's love and the steadiness of his arms.
this year teya dreaded it, loathed the wakening of each muscle and tendon and the way it made her turn toward the borders, wondering crazily if a man might appear along them for her, for a nameless and wordless thing that would sate the now-burning spot in her mind.
she had liked those, after reyes. and while teya consciously looked forward to denning up with bridget for the duration, like it had been the first year, she just wanted this last damn couple of days to herself.
hunting, she said; fishing; she would be back by sundown and stay there, teya told her mind, even as her hips loosened and the fragrances of her body's call filtered through the fen. she had fled here to be alone in familiarity; now she was alone in grief and desire, and its cruel and unwarranted intersection.