Ficly

A large backyard

Sitting on the back porch, the air is cold but sunlight irradiates my skin and warms me. There is chirping and I still myself, quiet barely breathing.

Watching the tall green grass sway in the wind.

Watching the blades part, allowing her to walk towards me, timid, graceful, wary.

Her stomach bulges heavily underneath her. I can hear the swishing grasses graze her stomach, imagine the sound of her fawn moving, writhing inside her.

She eyes me with one eye, then tilts her head and eyes me with the other. She flicks her tail, her ears, daring to go no closer to an obvious predator. Slowly she lowers her head to nibble at the grass at her hooves. Slowly I extend my hand, and half-eaten apple, the last of my lunch.

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