The Sunspire the world was on fire

A quiver grazed along her spine at his ministrations—a slow burning that drew a low, smoky croon from the gypsy as her tail gave an idle lash through the air. He drifted away from her, and she followed him with her eyes, curious of the tone of his voice spoken with the question he posed, and yet seeing no true meaning to it aside from light curiosity.
 
“No,” she answered simply, the amusement that danced in her eyes only beginning to curve the corners of her elegant muzzle. “I came to familiarize myself of the mountains beauty and resources.” She paused, a slender roll of her shoulders given as her eyes finally turned back to the sight that lay before her—the expanse of the rolling valleys and winding rivers that neighbored the mountains a curious sight to her, for it was land she would have found comfort within in her previous life—her life before Diaspora. “And to reflect.”
 
She paused, her tongue swiping hesitantly over her lips, the coyness of her gaze lingering back toward him. “Have you lost something here?”