Under the Low Green Moon

Under the low green moon,
The stars reflected soft light
In the sweat that slid down your back.
Each a testimony and tribute to
Our union and our midnight wishes.

The breeze stumbled over itself;
I heard it among the roses and the
Surface of the lake,
Clumsy in its haste to witness
Our passion.

Under the low green moon,
I made you mine, territorial fingers
staking territory in scratch marks on your
Starlit skin.
And I remember clearly, you returning the favor
Inhaling the scent of nocturnal waters and
dew-silked petals,
You pinned me close, whispering your claim on
My body and my soul.

The dawn found us gone,
Washed pure by the early morning
And our union tucked away with secrets,d
reams, and the low green moon.

"Why have we stopped?"

They were mid-way through the thick pine woods, no where near any carriage stop. On top of that, it was nearing sunset, and the clouds that had rolled in earlier were now covering the land in a robust downpour. It wasn't Ydel's ideal situation, by any means.

"Don't get impatient," snapped the carriage driver.His boots made a squelching sound in the muddy undergrowth as he hopped down from the driver's seat. "Just need to check something."

Ydel sighed loudly, but said nothing, choosing instead to rearrange some of her packages to form a sort of lap-top platform she could rest her head on. It had been a fairly long day, and the sound of the rain on the leaves was hypnotic to the point of drowsiness. Her eyes lost focus amidst the grey and green that surrounded her, and her thoughts drifted over the day's course until they settled gently on the memory of Garrisson.

A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips as she thought back to their chance meeting that morning in front of the bakery. They'd exchanged witty banter and subtle innuendos until his fiance - and her best friend - came out of the shop, arms laden with pastries, and whisked him away off to the next stop on their errands list. Ydel sighed again, this time a little sadly. Love was never simple, it seemed.

The carriage was late, again.

Water-heavy clouds rolled in from the west, bringing a chill to the air surrounding the lonely platform. Ydel sat at the edge of the rickety wooden platform and propped her chin up in an upturned palm, wondering if she'd make faster time walking. Seddleburg was only fifteen miles through the wood; not a terrible trek. But then again, there were the packages to consider.

She turned around and grabbed one from the stack. Nothing particularly noteworthy from the outside; just brown paper wrapping, twine, and a name written in neat black ink. Ydel briefly wished she had handwriting so nice as that on the package. Hers was a dreadful scrawling mess of inconsistent lines and curves. But then, she didn't do much writing anyway.

"Hoi, miss!" The burly voice of the carriage driver caught her attention and she scrambled up to her feet, scooping up the rest of the little boxes hurriedly. "Swiftly now," the driver said impatiently. "Got four more stops after this one and we're two stops behind on time!"

"Funny how that happens every week," Ydel mumbled into her armful of boxes, but the driver ignored her and urged his horses onward even as she was still settling into her seat. Fifteen miles, and she'd be home again.