Stavanger Bay Demoiselle

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at last lestan mayfair's voice had given out, and his quieted mouth was another reminder of what he had lost in the end. helplessly he returned to the bay; he dug into the old caches he had built beside the den they had once inhabited here. he searched for any toy of blossom's that might have been left behind; he looked for any flower that she might have enjoyed.
he slept on the sand, and rose with sea-violets twined around his nape and into the strap of the tracker.
the hawk's-eyes which watched soon captured the honeyblue of his own, and warily lestan ground to a halt, watching the dappled shadows play across the body of the other.