Firestone Hot Springs mare's milk

her name on his tongue. a stirring in her chest brings a light smile to her face as he guesses.

watching him as he picks specks from deep auburn fur, atoztli wonders who orders these long miles for him. what lord of the steppes does he serve? is he merciful? is he cruel?

as he slips crocodilian into the river, she catches the wanting glint of his stare and paddles out of range, limbs splaying as she navigates deeper water. with face framed just so by the murkwater, she blows bubbles from her nose and thinks.

repelled? a serpentine turn of her long body as she encircles the horselord. you have not get given me reason to be. will you? i should like to see this road of yours and its sharing of knowledge.