Starglow Basin corazon

For long he regards her profile, the delicate form again within his sights. Her wounds had healed. She bore them still, but they did not detract from a face and figure which would hold any man in its sway. The ocelot turns face, expression emptied of anything that is not stone.

He grunts and steps down into the churned earth, where he would look upon her in full.

“No, Saya. I am not satisfied.”