Two lovers make love one last time before war separates them.
Birds chirped lazily across the summer sky as Catherine made daisy crowns while waiting for her husband. They had married in haste, their marriage presided over by a grumpy monk rather than a priest.
Every able man in the village had to serve, they said, shoving crooked spears onto farmboy hands, calloused from the hoe. Now half the village marched off to war, pawns in the byzantine machinations of the highborns.
She basked in the late afternoon sun, wavy blonde hair drifting whisply in the warm breeze. The now completed chain of daisies hanging reverently atop her freckled face.
Closing her eyes, she felt the wind caress her, soft blows of air catching the cloth of her white dress. She shivered as the smooth fabric hugged her supple curves, large breasts and shapely legs being silhouetted against the smooth cotton, goosebumps running along her pale skin.
Enjoying the breeze, she did not notice a dark figure creep upon her. Strong hands gripped Catherine's bare shoulders as she was pulled from her dreamful state.
With a gasp she turned to her intruder, finding her Edd's mischievous eyes focused on her face. Realising they had not been discovered, Catherine began to laugh, swatting her husband's hands away as she ran into the field of flowers that skirted the village.
He chased her, smelling dahlias as his wife teased him across the field, jiggling and swaying as she giggled at him. The enticing feminine curves stirring a familiar yearning in his loins.
She tripped on a shallow ditch, hidden by the carpet of flowers, the grass breaking her fall. She rolled to her back, just in time to see her husband follow her down. A grunt pursing from his lips as he fell on her.
Eyes locked, they stared longingly into each other. He could feel her heavy breasts heave with each breath, her mouth slightly ajar with desire. His chest pumping rapid above her, a knob poking against her skirt.