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Where you’ll find a short Mexmur, the Huntress written by yours truly. Check it out.
We follow a path through a wide field of ripening oats. I catch the scent of wild flowers edged along the forest to the north. A breeze ruffles the gelding’s mane, and I pat his neck as he raises his head.
I feel it too. Something in the wind. I stand in my stirrups, shade my eyes, and look around. My heart misses a beat.
How did I not notice the two blue moons in the afternoon sky? Below them, in the distance, sits a circle of white in the middle of a wild field.