Like a feral cat, an alluringly beautiful woman, dressed in tight-fitting leather armor, trimmed in green, a woodland cloak draped about her shoulders, crept through the underbrush of the sparse forestlands. Though youthful to all appearances, her olive skin unblemished and long, brown locks untouched by even a single grey or white strand, the curving point of her long ears and depths of her chestnut eyes bespoke an age far elder than her visage suggested. Beyond this, her light, measured steps and comfort with which she handled the deftly crafted longbow in her elegant hands, suggested a veritable lifetime of perfected craft. As it currently stood, said perfected craft was focused entirely on a young buck standing at the center of a small clearing littered with wildflowers before her.
There is a place where burlesque is offered, With full crowds, and fuller coffers
I'm Safe with you, In your embrace, I yearn for you, I want a taste
Thoughts of your tongue fill my mind, On a midnight drive along the sunset line
Collar me please, Daddy, Keep me locked up tight
Within dusty depths she stirs, grinding stonework long interred
Bless me Father, For I have sinned
To serve you, divine, Our lusts so entwined
“No,” was his immediate thought. “Not only am I to break my oath of chastity, but with my own sister?!”
Just as the full darkness of nightfall enclosed around them, Lystra and Belt made the gates of the Flaming Fist Fort. Despite seeing no sign of continued pursuit for the majority of their flight, they had not slowed their mounts, fearful that their foe may have some unseen trick up their sleeve.