“My upbringing had taught me that such creatures should not suffer to live, and yet I loved him and lusted for him. "Muira? Muira, where are you?" I heard a voice call. I sighed and set down on the ground the small flower that was in my hand. There were hundreds like it around me for I sat in the midst of a thick patch of heather. The plants were a colorful sea of fragrance that wrapped around me and comforted me like a soft blanket. "Muira!" came the voice. "Coming, Mother!" I called back. I st...ood and hurried down the steep hill to the small stone house at the edge of the village. A meager garden stood behind the stone walls, and there was a strong thatch roof atop its sturdy frame. A curl of gray smoke rose from the chimney and into the gray sky over the large village where I had been born and raised. There were dozens of similar cottages placed on terraces with a few larger ones nestled among them and along the road. A single road meandered between them, but there were countless paths to the outhouses, wells, and the far-flung fields of the hilly valley in which we all resided.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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