Opening it, she withdrew her neatly folded bloomers. Creeping to the bed, she laid them on the fur beside Hunter. Tears stung her eyes as she straightened. So many memories. Sadness twisted through her. Hunter, saluting her at midnight, her bloomers trailing behind him. Hunter, lifting them to his nose and sniffing the flower scent, his eyes alight with laughter. One day, when the bitterness left him, perhaps he would look at those drawers and smile at his memories of her. She prayed he would. Surely he would eventually forgive her for leaving him.
( Catherine Anderson )
[ Comanche Moon ]
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