Sunset Valley Pǎnakär

Kneeling she remains with a hammering heart. Listening to Faust is making attempts on a fathomless puzzle. And more! She felt herself reduced to a tangle of nerve-endings, made her own mess of contradictions in a body that now aches fiercely to be covered. The blue eyes skit over frost, there is nothing to shelter them against, nothing to look at but the sharp cut of Faust. The huntress is exposed and vulnerable, pierced with homesickness and the coming heat which consumes through her belly.
Ayovi shows teeth and flicks high her silver hackles, “you said I don’t belong to the mountains. You’re wrong. They are mine.” As she stands to full height her tail whips.
“I want you gone. Leave this place.”