Cedar Sweep Black swan

I was thinkin' an eye, or maybe an ear. She mused, remiss to slow down so that their paces might've matched. I'd patch you back up though, promise.

His business his own- hard to argue with! Not that it'd stop her from trying, accentuating her words with the roll of her eyes and a coy pout. That bad huh? It's not like I would judge.

They came up on the flowers he'd spotted before, and she got to work immediately, clearing away the snow and surveying the quality of each one; some bitten by frost, taken before their time, what a tragedy. Others were just fine, and it was these she got to work collecting; a gentle touch, uncharacteristic for her, reserved only for precious things, even when they sat between her teeth, pushed to the back so that she might still speak, they remained unpunctured, their stems cradled in wretched jaws.