As the morning sun awakens and begins to weave its golden light through the forest, Rasmus looks over at the sparkling witch. His eyes fall upon the glistening beauty coated with her dazzling blanket of frost. He has come to look forward to seeing this mysterious natural wonder at the start of each day.
Mystara is asleep on her back, on a large patch of fluffy green moss. He is sure it must have grown under her during the night while she slept. Her bound hands resting on her stomach rise and fall with her every breath. A small hum escapes her lips as she rolls to her side. Guiltily, Rasmus stares at the exposed cleavage of her breasts pressed together. His eyes run down the length of her body as her bare legs slide out through the slits of her skirt. Her thighs rub against one another,
