*absorbs your words with uncharacteristic reserve and maintains her silence as they ride on* *finds she is preoccupied, not only by the images she cannot easily dispel (sweat and skin and your hair flying free), but by this unexpected glimpse of your soul*
*tilts her head back and squints up at the sky as the canopy overhead thins and disappears* *shields her eyes from the sun and watches the bird of prey circling in stark silhouette, a faint shiver running down her spine for no reason that she can rightly discern*
*dismounts without a word, leading Jingle down to the water to drink* *strokes the mare's neck contemplatively* *finally, her voice just loud enough for you to hear* The summer's heat does suit you, Tyelco. *combs her fingers through the ends of her hair* Son of Fire.