Lion Head Mesa dawn's child

she could blame herself, perhaps she even should.

only she could do no such thing. a challenge had risen before him and he bowed away. she had loved him, she had treasured him.

now she could only think of a scorpion. a dangerous pest, scuttling along the desert.

i cannot welcome him with the same love, if he returns — if he does not agree.

she was miserable and sick to say it. it showed in the paling of her features, the downcast turn of her gaze. some part of her yearned to cry. to mourn him.

another part accepted what he had done to himself, more than what she may have done to him.