The Battered Lamp Chapter Eighteen: The Windy Bow - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Eighteen: The Windy Bow

... find it. And her clothes were right by the path. Slow and careful. Her hands had become her eyes, feeling around textures of the rock, brushing moss and lichen, dipping onto loamy soil, brushing the lapping waters of the hot spring. Sweep. Crawl. Sweep. Over and over. It was almost zen-like, the same repetitions she would lose herself with her archery. Pull. Aim. Release. Sweep. Crawl. Sweep. Her fingers brushed clothes, smooth and pillowy—the down of her jacket. She crawled forward, hands sweeping around the smooth fabric, brushing the rougher weave of her sweater. She pulled it to her and something wooden scraped on the stone. Windfeather. She touched the magical yumi, a type of bow with an asymmetrical grip; she had practiced with them with since elementary school. The wood was smooth in her hand and she could feel the air whispering to her. She gripped it and sensations overwhelmed her. Fumi cried out, her thoughts bombarded with information, painting green across her mind's eye, rippling and wavering, almost forming something coherent. The green swirled about her in eddies and ripples, like water flowing around an obstruction and painting the solid objects in green. Thick pillars surrounded her and large lumps rose to her right. She held out her arm, a void moved in her mind's eye, the green swirling about it as the wind blew across her arm. Windfeather gave her command of the air. And she could see the wind, witness it's path, and see where it could not touch. The ...

... pillars were trees, creaking as the wind rushed through the branches. Fumi smiled, standing up. It was so alien from sight. She could hardly make out what she was sensing. But she was learning. She walked across the ground, watching the green eddy around divots and small rocks or roots. Her pace was slow, but her confidence grew. She turned, sensing the air rippling above the hot spring, the air acting slightly different there than on the ground, roiling as the spring's heat caused strred the air. She laughed, a sound of pure joy as cold snow fell around her naked body. Kyle's gift would guide her back to him. Fate was on her side, wishing that the young Yuki-onna would find happiness in Kyle's strong arms. A void moved, the figure of a person outlined by rippling eddies. The air roiled about this figure more violence than it did over the hot spring. Fumi paused, cocking her head, trying to make sense of this new pattern. It was like the figure was exuding some great heat. “Hello,” she called, frowning. The figure stopped moving, but the air still roiled about it. Was it a person? Why weren't they answering. Fumi grew tense, wiggling her toes in the cold snow, then slipping into her archery stance. Maybe it was a beast. “Is someone there?” Or a spirit. A kami, like the one that had taken her sight in payment. That could explain the air roiling about it. Maybe she was sensing into the spiritual world. “You can't see?” a woman's voice asked in English, her voice rich and throaty. ...