Duskfire Glacier [m] Tshärr

She does not put them to flight, instead with the same veracity in which she’d sought the deer her mouth opens upon his, taking blood-sweetened breaths from Skorpa’s throat. She grunts his name, it blows through her as she explores all him under daylight, drawing lines with her kiss. There is a rhythm he likes, she learned last night, and in setting herself astride the rogue she grinds to find it.

***

Eventually they separate and Ayovi peels away from him, feeling full but catching her breath around the flank of their kill. There is silence then, and she does not care about her damp pelt or the swell of her lips. She grooms the taut caribou hide. Eyes trickle back over the northerner. Obsession roots in this first man, her only, but when desire soothes she wonders how many women share this with her.
“You must have a wife on each mountain peak,” she stops her licking long enough to muse aloud.