It was a place its inhabitants described only with outstretched arms and crescendoing hollers; a place with no words, no name. It existed in time and space, without need of description, explanation, or justification.
They had need of nothing.
They played together as children, frolicking in the winter grass and summer rains. Green leaves fluttered overhead, blessing the graceful dance of their bodies running, leaping; pulling and pushing; twirling and falling.
They matured like meadow rabbits: brown, full, and spirited.
His chest grew wide and muscular, and he liked to display his power: hands on his hips with his legs spread wide, dangling his plumage before her.
She laughed with pleasure at his insolence, and strutted away from him, swaying her round hips and buttocks and jutting her nipples proudly in front of her breasts.
He chased her then, and she threw up her hands and squealed, running with all her might. Cleverly, she darted sideways into a cave hidden in the bushes.
She crouched, panting heavily, and listened with wide black eyes to ascertain his bearing.
But there was no sound, and she wondered where he had gone.
Her breathing slowed, and she listened intently to the silence. Suddenly, he pounced from behind!
She screamed, and he covered her mouth with his brown hand.
She bit it.
