The lioness

Thievery

It was something a hair's breadth away from magical about the way the solid darkness managed to reach into more than it did onto his hair and the rest of him, whom altogether was a solid black mass of lean muscle and loss, just a shade of black darker than the blackness around them.

Only illuminated by the grey, silvery and slippery light stretching from the moon. A color that matched her feelings rather well and accurate.

All together, it simply was a night especially designed for them, or maybe dedicated but not made for them.

Maybe they had stolen this night from two other with less angst tangled in their exhales.

But it was of little matter to her, and she failed -as she often did- to feel any remorse for their possible theft.

She actually felt more intrigued bu the tingling sensation of adrenaline from the imagined thievery

 and the endless promises of adventures that laid behind it.