Iktome Plains [m] bouch san

his singing was not unpleasant, nor his general mien toward her. not quite a zealot's worship, but respectful enough for mireille to straighten from her warnings. her gaze drank him in again, and soon her scarlet muzzle moved to take his breath, to sunder her own through his guard hairs.
impatient; she snaked her hips between his forelegs and demanded he be at attention within gamy seconds, for her tolerance of any man was reduced to only the number of minutes in which they might dance together.
her mind wandered.