The murky, shadowy smear of his brawny black body and the moon-washed white through its middle, barely moved as the distressed grey neared. It was a relief...

She had been surprised and so utterly disappointed when he had turned to leave Satanic Silk alone in her company already half a day ago – no matter how proper the gesture had been. Still worse had the pale hearted grey felt when golden eyes had failed even to glance back, to meet the apprehensive flounder of her gaze and answer its beckoning call. Though he had not abandoned her, and she knew that truly, faith had done little to help quell rising fear; that moment of brutal conviction had come too prematurely, and she had been given no time to prepare, to steady her decision.

The warmth of his face extended upwards to welcome in her arrival - her clumsy, sorrowful descent - not shun it. Against her cold, damp cheek and all the way along the elegant curve of her neck, their colliding skin seemed to ignite within her all of the fierce passion of an electrical storm; dazzling and vibrant; the same lingering effervescence which had laid dormant, smothered beneath tides of incompatibility for such a long time. Had she even ever known the thrill which seemed so suddenly to swell through her veins? His sureness seemed no more brittle than the old, enduring forest surrounding, or the dark jagged mountains that towered beyond. It leaked fresh confidence through her forlorn soul.

Though grief still wracked her lean frame as it crumbled beside him, there was a lightness and liberty that had been lost when she had surrendered to her suitor’s charm all those months ago. She was a free woman now, blinded and confused by loss perhaps, but without the need to think twice about the companionship now sought so urgently. Feathered wing sank beneath her weight, pressed hard into the soft, moist soil which had once been swathed in lush Foothills pasture – it was a pillow bed compared to the arid rock base of the desert, and she was grateful for that difference.

He questioned her quietly and pulsing, slack ears traced an unanticipated softness in his tone. She felt again the light brush of his movement; lips sweeping the dull rivers of anguish from ashen fur, and she caved further towards its soothing touch. There was no hiding any more – nor ever again. Writhing fire rose eagerly to meet a soft wind, wickedly unaware of any betrayal; and beneath, an expression that had always struggled to deceive, was cast vividly in rich red illumination. “He is gone...” she answered breathlessly – Midas was a brilliant mind, she knew there was no reason for embellishment. “He won’t pursue me any longer.” She wondered if he had heard the words exchanged anyway - the frenzied, unabashed proposal which had seemed so perverted by his desperate infatuation.

She shook literally, the burning memory from her thoughts. It was time to let go...