Porcupine Ridge all you have is your fire

stigmata despaired over her beauty; for she was as enchanting and irrevocable as the dawn, and there was an intelligence to her gaze that led him to fear he could drawn in and outwitted at any moment. the uncertainty was terribly thrilling, and as the high season loomed ever nearer, the ironwraith could not forgo a chance to collect the pearl into his trove of treasured wolves.

"well if i am not to your liking," he entreated, "then i could show you to a few others. there is sure to be something among us to your tastes." he sought to close the last vestiges of a distance between them, turning his side to her so that she might find the scent threads of a few other diasporans clinging to him like cologne.