Wet foliage slapping at her face, the young, half-elvan ranger dives through the underbrush near the western eaves of the Wood of Sharp Teeth. She is in her element, lithe and quick. She knows the terrain and how to maneuver in it. She does not get caught on stray branches, or tripped by fallen debris. Her woodland cloak whips behind her, shadowing her every move as if it has a mind of its own. Her tight leather armor hugs her closely, accentuating every dip and curve of her well formed fisique. Her name is Lystra Silverdragon and this is the start of her tale.
Lupine kisses, feathered touches Be my sunset, bathed in russets Hear my cries to braided cords Hear my worship of the lords Of shadows rising, night unending Of pleasure bated, pain withstanding Proof that angels do wear leather Take me ever for your pleasure Wrench from me the lion’s roar Birth from flesh the open … Continue reading Lupine Kisses
Moonlight shone eerily across the surface of untouched snow, broken every now and then by the deep pool of shadow gathered beneath a towering fir. The night air was heavy, silent, and still with not a breath of air to disturb it. All the world seemed as a predatory beast preparing to spring upon unsuspecting … Continue reading The Hunting Lodge pt.1
It was nearing midnight, and the small roadside bar in west Texas was preparing to wrap up another slow night. The day was October the 30th, and as the minutes ticked closer to the witching hour, the world drew closer to all hallows eve. A soft, cool wind blew in from the west, disturbing the … Continue reading The Witch of West Texas