Scent of Warm Resin

I pulled that golden resin nodule from my pouch, rolling it slow across the palm of my hand while night shadows stretched out across the valley. Sitting high in a dry sandstone hollow, the wind carried the chill of distant rain. I took a scrap of rough slate and rubbed the amber pebble firm against the grain until the friction warmed the sap right through. A rich, sweet cedar pine scent rose up, thick enough to mask the damp musk of the brush below. Out here, honey, a little pocket of sweetness in the dark is plenty to let a gal breathe easy.