Fleur’s Attire
someone other than Mother Nature- she’s not your typical Russian.
- quantify my luck
- took a large pinch of snuff
- sleep through a blizzard
Tune in next time part 83 Click Here for Earlier Installments
Fleur’s attire was as elaborate as mine, and considerably heavier. The dense brocaded fabric once allowed her to sleep through a blizzard when our tent blew away in the mountains. That year was memorable, but this promised to be a new high-water mark.
I unraveled the complex laces of her jodhpurs, reciting the proper chant. When I got to her belt I took a large pinch of snuff from its hidden compartment. When I sneezed onto her sleeve I created a speckled pattern to divine our procreative chances, to quantify my luck as a father as it were.
But my mind was still on Svetlana. She’s not your typical woman, and she’s not your typical Russian. Was her claim valid? How could she be so sure, unless she consulted with someone other than Mother Nature.
I blew a fanfare on each of the six pennywhistles sewn into Feur’s bodice. It was time.
bonus points for using them in reverse order