And Love, It Seems, Made Flyin' Dreams, To Bring You Home To Me
Surreal |
She needed to speak more often with Falk. Her heat was over; she wasn’t at risk of throwing herself at him at the slightest touch. It was a good thing she had chosen not to have a litter this year; they would have been born out here in the Estuary, away from the home that was their birthright. There wouldn’t have been a warm alcove for them. It just added to the anger at being displaced. Glacier had lent a lot of clarity during their chat on his borders. But it didn’t sway any amount of relish at the thought of Hellstrom going down.
As she picked her way through the Estuary toward Falk, she thought about her plans. They would still be set in motion, even if she didn’t take the Plains immediately. If Abaven didn’t siege, when she raised Celestial, she would. These thoughts were pressed aside as she reached the camp, crossing to her mate’s side and dropping to settle next to him, brushing close, relishing the touch. There was still fire, but it wasn’t a desperate urgency, screaming for release. It was a sensual burn in her middle and heart; simply love and all that came with it. She didn’t speak first, content to remain pressed against him, lowering her head to rest on his front legs, ear to his chest, listening to his heart.
Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think |