A slight pinch forms to an ever increasingly pain staking itch. Her knees have grown numbly stiff. Needles drive from her toes to her knees; who reluctantly bend allowing her feet and toes to be flat upon the damp dirt. A small pillar rises with a gust of wind tossing the fiery gold strands up, over, and around; landing their curls upon her face. Eyes of fire water blue hidden beneath the golden locks can no longer see the dried mud plastered on sunset red whining knees. Calling to her she can hear the sweet sound of his voice, ringing out to her, placing itself atop milky white flesh. Bumps rise up and over her face, racing down each step of her spine. With a sudden shudder, tickling bumps explore the rest of her body, limb by limb. As a fire slowly fades and a tide raises, the surge of tiny bumps quietly recede calling it a truce: Permitting a crunch of newly brown leaves and snapping twigs under the strength of each step. Leaves tripping and flying, rush past her partnered with a chaotic wind battle between each grandfather tree clearing a path. Veiled beneath the secretive pine needles and struggling limbs of the grandfather tree, he lies in the arms of the stumps old nook. His eyes shut so carefully, but his ears lay awake and nose alert with each gust of the wind’s battling leaves. A whispering breeze circles around his feet twisting up his legs, enclosing upon his arms, and gripping his nose with a soft smell of lavender drenched in vanilla and imprinted with a hint of smooth milky flesh. Tiny porcelain fingers dance from his arm and with a final beat stretch their bodies flat upon his wind-beaten cheek. Little bumps burst into an applause stretching from one corner to the other raising one side of the curtain: And through the shadows his lips awoke from a somber sleep into his loving smirk. With a nudge from the wind, the delicate figure collapsed into his warm embrace pushing both into the hidden nook while the soft locks and silky skin rested upon the blazing mountains of his muscular chest.