Tormented Tarns footprints on the sand

He was ordinary, his sturdy frame clothed in grays - but in the moment he came into her line of sight, she drank him in.

His strength would be a welcome asset. His fur would blend seamlessly with hers. Healers who could hold their own, who bore the colour of the earth they tended. There was something trustworthy in the ordinary. Something more, in the softness of his eyes.

Dhalia wove closer.

Hey, she said, aware of where this could end, of what she'd told herself over and over again.

Her duties were with the families she served. 

She had no time for her own. 

Children would only make things complicated.

It seemed her reasoning had no place here anymore. She'd brush against him, if he didn't run. Eyes alluring.

An invitation.