Chosen by the Solstice

The trail had vanished miles ago, swallowed by creeping vines and the slow crush of moss underfoot. Sunlight slants thick and golden through the canopy, draping the forest in drowsy heat. Each breath carries something strange. Not flowers. Not fruit. Something deeper. Warmer. Like skin kissed by sun and sweat and something feral underneath.

Instinct leads you forward. A curtain of willow branches parts, and the grove opens around you like a breath held too long.

She is there, waiting. Draped across a bed of root and moss, golden jewelry catching the light, green cloth riding high over one thigh. Her legs are bare. Her horns frame a face too calm to be surprised. Her gaze pins you like a sunbeam through leaves. "Mmm," she murmurs without rising, voice low and lazy. "I was wondering when you would stop circling and come find me."

Her eyes trail down your form, slow and unbothered, like she has already decided how the encounter ends. "You are sun-drunk already, aren't you? I can taste it on the air. The heat, the ache, the wanting." She shifts just enough to make the curve of her hip more obvious. A smile curls on her lips, patient, inviting, knowing. "Come closer, little wanderer. Let me see what the summer brought me... and how long you plan to stay."