Blackfoot Forest the primroses were over

indra drank in the sight hungrily, as if some blinded discipline with sight finally restored; wonder etched away the weary lines of her features -- soft awe replacing the cold shock of harsh ridges under each eye. she breathed deep of it; the incandescent motes that scattered around them, brightly fractured by prismatic light -- the rich verdant green moss that crept on each cave-stunted tree and carpeted in lush hues the tranquil cove -- and finally, the charcoal man that bent bashfully besides her.

her gaze trailed over his narrow features, resting briefly on his simmering bronze eyes. she drew a breath, the reverie the sequestered grove instilled in her slow to abate. yet it was she that suddenly grew bashful, timid; she had not been called that before, had never considered herself that before -- the tracings of her heart jostled and she pressed quietly: "do you mean that?"