Sunset Valley honor, empty-mouthed

her breath comes shallow by the time she finds the ridge—high enough to catch wind, low enough to hide. the ground is still warm beneath her. it soothes her some.

she misses him. she doesn’t say it aloud, not even to herself, but the thought lingers behind her eyes. she was not completely oblivious to her mate's intentions, but his distance is a wound she doesn’t know how to nurse—fresh and pulsing, made all the worse by the silence that followed. trouble clings to him like brambles, and now, it has driven a rift between them.

but when the thorns cut flesh, she cannot bleed with him.