Firestone Hot Springs mare's milk

he’s playful, and atoztli likes that about him. their banter comes easy, making her wonder if she was not just another pit stop in the road. 

bringing the reed’s head underwater, one ear flicks as he mentions no wives. she cannot decide which she’d hoped for; a man with many wives was rich, but often full of callous disregard for the women he claimed. these men she likens to grasshoppers; always flitting from one doe eyed beauty to the next, never appreciating the women who quietly and steadfastly kept his hearth warm for him. and a man without wives was dangerous: hungry and looking to prove his worth to the world. often these men were poorer than atoztli preferred. having her taste of both, she’d been left wanting. she wonders if he’s a new, different kind of man. where does his road take him?

little ripples dance along the surface as she played the water. lowering her head until it was level with the steaming pool, atoztli breathes upon the water’s surface and watches as little beads dance. 

atoztli. this road of yours, jamukha, where does it go? what waits at its end? her dark gaze lifts and holds him in full, sensing a revenant power within him.