Timorous (Micro-Fiction)

They glimmered like raindrops exposed to moonlight; she captured the night in her tears. I watched from behind a hawthorn hedge, mouth agape, eyes wide. She was so beautiful, so alive.
A deer nuzzled her shoulder, an owl hooted from her wrist, and I crept forth like the little mouse I was timorous no more. She glanced my way and offered her hand, which I took, and led me into the midnight pool, the water cold, refreshing. All the animals she’d collected followed her in: the badger; a wolf; several bats and a beaver. I couldn’t explain it, who could’ve? Perhaps she loved us all the same, perhaps she was just hungry. Either way, when her tongue tasted my skin, her palm pressing me beneath the stilled surface, I’d have died for her over and over. If I’d got the chance, anyway.

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