Rising Sun Valley Dear Fellow Traveller

Into his arms she slinks and strokes the bridge of nose beneath his jaw, the corners of her mouth curling. It feels crazed to treat a perfect stranger so dear, with nuzzles and embraces previously given to no one. She can’t tear herself from their reckless lure.

She sinks into his scent and explores his edges greedily, shyly meeting his eyes at intervals and wondering how it would feel to kiss him? Would he be familiar like the native winterlands, from which they’ve both fled? Or does the wayward boy beget a worldly tenor?

She raises her mouth to his to for herself see…

What the hell am I doing?

Her body seizes! There is a fleeting gasp and suddenly she’s scrambling out from his clutch, banking against the wall of the earthen shelter that itself undulates and shudders with falling streams of dirt.

She stares wide-eyed and wordless, lungs filling, chest pounding, ridge bristling.

“Shit!” She hisses and her body quivers in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’m- It’s just that- We don’t- I mean I’m-”

Damnit! How would he think of her now? As a witless fool?

And how quickly could she bury her head beneath the dirt? She couldn't bear the thought of him seeing her shame.

“I’m… a mess.”

And now he knows it, too.

Would she replay this moment in her mind every night for the rest of her life?
Probably.