Nova Peak yon peche [m]

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mireille had been successful, she felt. there were no names, save for one, and it was one she would treasure by not uttering again.
inside her brewed the offerings they had given her, churned and separated, chaff from wheat, facing now the grim whim of her own fertility.
only the ocean provided. only the earth beneath sapphique knew if she was worthy to be mother.
mireille knew her home was not far, and so she stopped with the lone mountain between them, believing no other men to be in pursuit for these last remnants of the fragrance which still hung upon her coat.