The light shimmers off the moon lit grass as the frost breaks it into an aroma of colors. It’s an otherwise calm night.

Her foot touches down as if being lowered from a machine. With the blood dripping off her toes, it could be a meathook she’s shrinking down from.

When he’s been around, she normally has a difficult time gaining her bearings.  So it’s no surprise she doesn’t notice the blood or the frost stinging her bare feet.

She glances at the moon as if shooting a visual azimuth to steady herself; she can do this.  She takes a step forward when she hears his caramel voice smoothly say “well this was nice”.
Written by Nilknarfar
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