Birthright

Rhiannon had taken up a light jog to keep up but she paused by the pile of clothes, which she spotted because they were the only dark lumps on a field of beige. His night vision was surely far superior to hers. “This is the part where I avert my eyes,” she said, putting her back to the cat and watching the sparse, twinkling lights of the town as people settled into their couches or beds for the night. A breeze kicked up sediment around their legs and turned her hair into dark slashes across her cheek.