Boartusk Heights cherrywine [m]

kynareth obscured her, smudged teya to nothingness, a thumb-etching of ink meant to stain and to change.
teya stared off toward the changing light glowing around the edge of the boar-infested place. the scent of pine was sharp around the mingled fragrance the two had churned into the petrichor-touched air.
"have you love a man, kynareth?" she asked softly, a red-charcoal figure sprawled; comma; in the arms of the powerful king-saint. had she not known him for a small while, she might have thought him only passionate. but she recognized in his steeltone embrace her own sort of appetites: not easily blunted once whet, and with no discernment for gender.
"do they love other men in same way?"
meandering;
"woman in brecheliant i love. her husband back after pack thought him dead." a breath that rippled her flanks. was she right to feel so? was this langour in her limbs — below the heat kynareth had inspired — was this the salt-spike of grief. "it not as easy as loving men." her eyes narrowed. "harder. i will never be mother. she is mother twice. maybe we not understand each other."