the stars in her eyes; birthing--mandan, any

[Ygritte]

The tired woman closes her eyes and relishes in her mate's touch when he buries against (always mindful of the horns). Her smile speaks for her as two small tears trickle from the corners of the amber eyes and saturate her cheeks. It's all she can do to express her gratitude for Mandan and the blessing that lay snoring softly at their feet.

The sound of their daughter's name on his lips makes her heart skip and his approve makes her heart soar. The adoration is his eyes and his smile is what heaven on earth must feel like. The little pink starred filly is what angels truly look like. The woman presses against her mate when he takes her side and she gently lips his mane, lovingly. "We did good, my love." Tones are hushed as to not disturb little Josselyn.

"I love you, Mandan." Eyes seeking the stallion's as she speaks. The mare can not recall if she had openly told the man those simple but powerful words or if they had just assumed it from that day in the meadow. But now she did for love pour from every inch of her body stronger than ever for the horned stallion and the tiny filly.

ygritte

texas&nativity