Firestone Hot Springs mare's milk

she basks in the warmth of anore’s compliment, a coquettish flicker of her gaze lingering on the scar laid across her slender face. some day, maybe, their bodies entwined, icewoman would tell priestess how she came by so stunning a kill mark. 

back to the man now; his fur sodden and heavy as he moves closer to them both.

she allows him this one touch — only that he may sup the first draught of a drink he will pine the rest of his life. a chill takes the skin where his fangs brush through dark fur.

atoztli moves to the reeds, short laughter springing from slender throat. are the women of khan’s steppe so easy? she wonders if he’s princeling as she splashes water towards his longing face. you will have to work harder than that, should you want to feel more than wind on that bone of yours.