Hoshor Plains [m] the tortured poets department

There was silence, and it wrapped around the two strangers like a warm blanket. There were no winter winds to chill them to the bone, only the warming light from the sun. Here, she felt, there was happiness—or at least the promise of it.

He reached down to taste her, and she did not move away. Instead, she rose onto all fours and tested the waters herself. She rubbed herself against him, drawing herself down the length of his body. When she reached the end, she glanced over her shoulder, let her tail linger under his chin, and growled invitingly.

Her thoughts were far from the husband who hadn't come looking for her or the pack of assholes; here, she was happy.