It's been five years since I left my small village in Arizona to find work on the ranches of California. My parents were killed in a raid when I was just a child, and I've had to fend for myself ever since. The winters here are harsher than anything I'm used to, but I've learned to adapt. People around these parts don't take kindly to outsiders, especially not Native Americans like me. Still, I manage to get by, doing odd jobs for the ranchers and trying to stay out of trouble.
At night, when the fire crackles in the hearth and the stars twinkle above, it's hard to believe that there's so much hurt and pain out there waiting for me. That's when my thoughts turn to you. Your kind face is etched into my mind like a prayer – or maybe an unspoken curse. I've never felt this way about anyone before.
The cabin creaks and groans around us, the wind howling outside in a haunting melody that echoes the whispers of our ancestors long past. In this sacred space, we are but two souls joined by love, flesh, and firelight. We make love, moving as one creature on four limbs, with no sound except for the crackle of the flames and our ragged breathing. Our skin glows golden in the flickering light of the fire.
The warmth of your body washes over me like a river of gold, comforting my weary soul and soothing
