Mesnyi
What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
S
he does not notice the stranger at first, but in all her twists and turns, the blur of the forest is not so dark as that. She halts on a dime, chest heaving and gleaming with freshly beading sweat - she has been dancing hard, for certain, and could dance far longer - watching him watching her. He is huge and winged and handsome and frightening. The music quiets into something idling but sharp, a little too heavy on the turns (not like her, and she thinks, not like him, either). Mesnyi stares at him, expressionless, and wonders for a moment what a man like him is doing watching a girl like her.She does not wonder for very long. She does not need to. It is not hard to imagine.
So, she dips her head, mane washing over her like the ocean foam, and when she rises, she is smiling. ”Care to dance?”
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
plotter
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