Duskfire Glacier [m] Oomemē

That long preserved virginity— it was a joke.
So were the Ashēeran huntmen she’d fantasized about marrying when she was an idealistic girl.
To be a good wife. That had always been Ayovi's dream.
Now she had none. Not as she fleets; ivory wings against ice, careening towards some unknown destination far below the madding world’s surface. In this frozen labyrinth she ruminates only on the man she leads deeper into the glacial halls.
It is a dead-end that at last stills the heaving huntress; a concourse of blue ice and silver stone where there is no alternative but to turn and face in full the one she’s chosen.
“@Skorpa,” she whispers and her body responds with an electric jolt. Ayovi waits for him to appear around a column of glass.