Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

The air empties of voice to the ambient chorus of peepers. Eset looks ahead and then away, absorbing his words. There is recognition in them. She understands it is for the condition of her heat, and nothing more. If there was an occasion for worshippers of the sun to brush with valley dwellers, it could only be rare.

She is dizzy, going from the harsh desert heat to the coolness of this creekside, contending with a fickle will she knew would only get more polarizing as the days persist. But the moment is savored, despite its strangeness. She turns, tipping her chin up, allowing her eyes to share their gratitude with- Akavir.

The edge of her mouth curls. In her jack-lit stare, something coy is stirring. At her side lies a primitive, palm-leaf pouch. Eset reaches a paw in then unfurls it in front of the creek man. A sweet, effervescent red berry appears in the center of her palm.

“Would you join me, Akavir?”