This is a continuation of a story that started here.
The farther Persephone walked, the darker the sky became. No longer the fierce blue of an autumn afternoon, storm clouds swirled above and the mist rose from the ground as the air rapidly cooled while rain pelted her, stinging her skin beneath her cloak.. It seemed her mother was having another one of her tantrums, and no act of independence would go unpunished.
So be it.
The field gave way to a few straggling trees, and the trees gave way to a sheltering forest. Icy wind whipped through the branches, clutching at her cloak and chilling her to the bone. The further into the woods she walked, the faster the leaves curled and dried, rubbing harshly together as the wind blew mercilessly.
She had no idea where she was going–she’d never been this far from her mother’s garden before. She simply let her feet carry her down the wide dirt path, knowing that there was something waiting for her. Something or someone calling to her. She felt it in the thrum of her blood pounding through her veins and pulsing against her skin. She felt it in the restlessness of her limbs and the buried ache deep in her core. She felt it in the tautness of her nipples and the brush of her thighs as she walked. What had started out as discomfort, quickly became agony.
The needle-like rain, pelting through her clothing only intensified that ache. And when rain gave way to sleet, she was surprised that steam hadn’t risen from her body the way it had from the forest floor. But she kept moving, knowing that sooner or later, she’d find what she was looking for, what her body had been promising her.
As she rounded a bend in the trail, she saw him, standing in the middle of the path, waiting for her. Until now, she’d assumed he was nothing more than a myth–a product of her stifled upbringing and her overactive imagination. But he was real.
Her steps faltered slightly as she considered the implication. As every heated dream, every carnal impulse, slipped back into her thoughts, unbidden. She kept moving though, stopping only when she stood before him–almost close enough to touch.
“Does your mother know you’re here?”
Persephone shrugged. “Does it really matter to you if she does?”
A slight grin curved his firm lips as he watched her creep nearer. “Not particularly.”
That’s it for me, today. Click on the other bloggers’ names to read their stories.