Hotaru
I want a snowfall kind of love
the kind of love that quiets the world
the kind of love that quiets the world
Hunting day has come again.
Hotaru has more than enough to barter with if she cared to buy from within the walls of the city, but her primordial desires scoff in the face of such easy acquisition of meat and furs. She is more than adept as a huntress, why rely on others when she can do it herself?
Atlas has grown enough to carry her through most all environments, and she needs nothing more than the saddlebags behind her as they head out into the tundra. Hotaru isn't seeking particularly large game today and as such had left the sled and hitch for Atlas back at her house. Arctic birds, perhaps a smaller herbivore if she can justify spending hours quartering and skinning it in the field to pack it out.
Already she has a string of birds tied to the saddlebags, and perhaps it's the scent of blood that damns her despite her preparations. It looms out of the snow, barely distinguishable at first were it not for the way Atlas tenses between her thighs and alarm spikes along their bond. Sharp eyes drawn to where his ears point, Hotaru swears colorfully as she sees the Ursur lumbering towards them. "Fuck me," she hisses as she swings her leg gracefully over Atlast. They could try to outrun it and might succeed, but Hotaru isn't willing to take that chance. They have a few minutes perhaps to prepare, and she doesn't waste a moment of it, sliding her bow off her shoulder in preparation for a showdown.
Hotaru has more than enough to barter with if she cared to buy from within the walls of the city, but her primordial desires scoff in the face of such easy acquisition of meat and furs. She is more than adept as a huntress, why rely on others when she can do it herself?
Atlas has grown enough to carry her through most all environments, and she needs nothing more than the saddlebags behind her as they head out into the tundra. Hotaru isn't seeking particularly large game today and as such had left the sled and hitch for Atlas back at her house. Arctic birds, perhaps a smaller herbivore if she can justify spending hours quartering and skinning it in the field to pack it out.
Already she has a string of birds tied to the saddlebags, and perhaps it's the scent of blood that damns her despite her preparations. It looms out of the snow, barely distinguishable at first were it not for the way Atlas tenses between her thighs and alarm spikes along their bond. Sharp eyes drawn to where his ears point, Hotaru swears colorfully as she sees the Ursur lumbering towards them. "Fuck me," she hisses as she swings her leg gracefully over Atlast. They could try to outrun it and might succeed, but Hotaru isn't willing to take that chance. They have a few minutes perhaps to prepare, and she doesn't waste a moment of it, sliding her bow off her shoulder in preparation for a showdown.
The kind of love that keeps you in bed all day
won't you bury me in your quiet love?
won't you bury me in your quiet love?
