Cuteness Takes the Sting Out
Last week I promised some pics of All The Cuteness that happens around here at this time of year. There are more pictures to be had at my Shadowdance Farm site. What I really need to do is get some video of the lambs racing while their moms are eating. There is absolutely nothing that can make the stress just slide away like watching a bunch of lambs playing together. It takes them a few days to figure out their legs, but once they do they’re like popcorn. Popcorn on crack. Crackcorn, if you will.
Anyhow, Daily Dose of Cute commencing now…
There. Now if you get to feeling all sorts of sad or worried by the WIPpet below, just scroll back up and look at the lambs. Not that there’s anything disturbing about what I’m sharing this week. Not really. Maybe. You be the judge.
I could do convoluted WIPpet math for my selection this week: month + day / 2 from the year = 7 paragraphs. Or I could simply go with 20 sentences (if I counted correctly) for the 20 in the year. Take your pick. Potato, pahtahhhhto. In any case, herein follows the moment some of you have been waiting for — though likely not exactly how you imagined it. Trust me, it’s not how Roe imagined it either. I’m not sure if it will make the final cut. It’s part of one of those random scenes my muse threw at me that may or may not get worked into the final draft.
To give some context… Roe has been terribly injured and is on death’s door. (Remember, scroll to the lambs again if you must.)
He smiled. His hand felt cool against her cheek, his thumb gently rubbing along her chin. Roe’s eyes widened as she tried to focus on his face, but it blurred. Something touched her lips. His mouth? Roe swore. She’d waited how long for this moment? Been through how much because of him? And he had to wait until she lay dying in her own blood before he kissed her?
“Rat bastard,” she whispered when he finally lifted his head.
“Just so,” said quietly enough to scare her.
But his lips — unbelievably soft and tasting of ale and honey — kept her mind off the burning sensation that started above her left breast, spiraling toward her shoulder, then down to her elbow. That kept her mind off being unable to breathe. Or to feel her extremities. She knew they were cold though, so she must have been feeling them. Cold and heavy. Unlike the line of fire burning her skin where Fader’s finger moved in a repetitive pattern from breast to shoulder to elbow.
Roe tried to break the kiss, but Fader’s other hand held her face so she couldn’t turn away.
“Trust me as you claim you do,” he said against her mouth.
Her response came out mangled, her lips obviously not as talented as his at talking-while-kissing-while-dying.
If you need to look at lambs again, go ahead. I’ll wait.
In the realm of first kisses I’m thinking this one won’t go down as one of the best. Then again, depending on the outcome… and it is memorable, so there is that.
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