Jade Fern Grove chafa

there might have been yet another argument had she known his mind, silvertongue coming to flaring defense of the woman who had loved her through the madness. it was her own ghosts she wished to flee, or rather, she would make them into ghosts. the flesh-and-blood man spoke and involuntarily her paw jerked against his. there was no desire to stay in this valley. her heart was unravelling down its center. there could be two loves. there could not be two homes. for a stricken, desperate moment, silvertongue allowed herself the guilty imagining of a life with akavir: her children calling him father, the banded shadows of light and and darkness spreading over the creekland in the wintertime. akavir's arms about her each night. it was a beautiful dream. she woke from it with a shuddering sigh, a flicker of her eyes upon his as he asked for something she should not grant. "yes." and softly she shimmered beside him, to the floor of the cave, outstretched with the rising swell of her abdomen and its pinked readiness open to his eyes, and the intimacy of it sent a tremble racing through her figure.