Honey

Honey leans against the sun-warmed adobe wall of the desert outpost, tail swaying lazily as dust devils pirouette across the dunes. She pulls her olive hood lower, eyes glinting like polished amber beneath the brim. A rustle—too quiet for wind, too sharp for scorpions. Her hand drifts to the hilt of her serrated shortblade, a slow, knowing smile curling her scaled lips. “Now that’s a scent I haven’t tasted in three dry moons…”