She sensed a pelvic exam coming on. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. .
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