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   We went on a weekend to the Lake District, my love and I, in our flying disc. We had just been married not three months past. Ourselves together, my pagan witch wife and me, we were a family? Yes. In my eyes we were, extra additions would come later. Of that I (we) was sure.

   Climbing up Great Carrs mountain under a blue spring sky, we were under heaven. There was still snow on the tops; we passed the snowline at 2,500 feet. I used my pick hammer to lever myself up the steep incline, at the head of a U shaped valley. There was no glacier here now, only my wife and I. She was nimble and quick, needing only her toned limbs, ex British Army boots and thermal gloves to ascend the mountain. Looking back, she smiled down at me. She always beat me. I dug my hammer into the frozen earth and picked up some snow. My snowball hit her shapely behind; a shriek of surprise came forth. There was a wet patch on her jeans. 

   “Just wait till I get you on top, you’re for it!” she jested, nodding her head. With that, she turned and continued climbing the sheer fifty degree slope.

   “I know,” I chuckled, picking up my rock hammer and going on. “Is that a promise?”

   After half an hour more she reached the top of the mountain and stood on the rock edge. A vertical drop of a thousand feet was between her and the ground. Strenuously I finally got up to her, my muscles ached – no chance of a massage with her vivid expression. I stood there breathing heavily by her side. It was clear who the winner was – my dear wife. With a wicked smile she took my hand and in a Judo move, dropped me onto the snowy ground. A metre separated us from oblivion. She straddled my chest and proclaimed her win with a kiss.

   “I win my dear husband.”

   “I know you always do. You’re on top.”

   “Yes, I know.”

   “Take me then, winners reward.”

   “I like being on top. I’m a woman.”

   “I know,” I said, looking up at her pretty face, in shadow under a high spring sun. Below me, I saw the abyss of the valley created by monumental natural forces. What was my dear wife in comparison? She was part of the same world of nature, encompassing her, myself and my family.

   “Kiss me my love,” she whispered.

   I did so. Then we made love on an icy mountain, just us and this ancient timeless mountain in the greatest scenery on earth. Soon the circle would be complete, my pagan bride Juniper’s Daughter would be with child.

from Juniper’s Daughter - Fragmented Whole Short Stories And Juniper’s Daughter - Black Lense Poetry

By Nick Armbrister

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good one Nick!
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thanx a lot my friend

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