a union of feathers and steel

The scars in her eyes are an ever-growing constellation; the world demands so much more of him than to simply be lost in her. He is a hunter, she, a pillow, and every night the two of them meet for sleep and that which is necessary.

As though contentment has seeped through the cracks of night, he will wake at dawn to check his traps, where fresh tracks will tempt him still further from home. And here he will set still more, wherefrom he will at last return, drained and dead as the meat he now drags behind him.

It seems the answers to certain questions cannot simply be known, they must be bloodily demonstrated – she knows he will kill for her, but dare she ask if he will die?