by Ben Blake
Chapter Three
Lachesis Measures
She ran from him, darting sure-footed through shadows of maple and hazel – but not too fast. He always kept her in sight, hunting her laughter through the trees until she let him catch her in a glade above a small stream, shining in the midday sun.
His hands were strong on her hips, but she twisted her lithe form and dashed her lips across his, still laughing.
“By my eyes,” he said, “you’ll be the death of me.”
“Not me,” she said. Her laughter stilled as the gift of her people came to her, soft yet insistent. “That woman is yet to come.”
He’d been about to pull her to him, but at the words he paused and drew back. “What do you mean?”
“I… don’t know.” She put a hand to her head, as though to wipe away the faintness she felt. A moment later she was smiling again. “Did you run me down just to talk?”
He grinned, and this time did pull her to him and kissed her, his other hand already untying the belt of her dress. He laid her down in the grass among snowdrops and purple gladioli, sunshine falling on her face as she closed her eyes.