The Night Grows Quiet
#15
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As the woman lay at his side sharing the heat of their bodies in the cool air of the sleeping house, the woman’s mind lingered upon that kiss, her eyes half lidded. The look of awe had been subtle upon his emotionless features, and she had simply smiled. She wondered now if it had been she that had invoked that awe or if it had been the kiss; she liked to think that it was the former, that she was able to excite that emotion within him as one ignited a fire. The black, woad marked fae breathed softly into his fur, her cheek still tingling with the soft touch that had brushed against her cheek. It was a different sort of touch than she was accustom to getting, somehow gentler and more reciprocated. It made her understand why these wolves made permanent a relationship by mating, but it was not as if her culture had been overly lenient in such matters. She had simply not found a male with which to devote her time. And yet she did not think that Onus would have that time; of course she could see herself be tied in such a way.... She thought it strange that she allowed such conflicting thoughts cross her mind.


Her thoughts were set aside as she looked up. His arm wrapped about her, drawing her close to him—she could hear the sound of his heart and she found it reassuring as if it were the proof that he truly lived, that this was not a Dreaming. And his nose went to her forehead, opening her third eye. The black warrior exhaled softly even as he inhaled, and she found that gentle squeeze reassuring. There was something soothing about it, something secure. For once the crows and ravens of the other world were held at bay, warded off by the presence of the coyote against her. Her body relaxed, and that instinct that dictated her survival knew that she was at the mercy of his jaws. But her mind knew that she had nothing to fear from him. One hand went to grip his good shoulder as if she feared that he would melt away; it was strange how vulnerable love made one feel. In those silent moments as she lay there beside him, the warrior cleared her mind, listening simply to the rhythm of his heart and breathing simply the scent of the male.


After a good measure of time had passed (or had it been mere moments?), the woman shifted, the white gaze looking up at him. When she spoke, her voice was quiet as if taking care to not disturb the quiet of the night. "I plan to return to Dahlia in the morning," the soft alto murmured, a strange and ambiguous smile upon that maw. She was not sure why she was telling him or why it mattered. She was not even sure if he had even expected otherwise. But even as the words left her jaws, she thought that she felt the first traces of what one might call ‘regret’. The blue marked tail waved once in her uncertainty as her white orbs strayed to his wound. "I at least wanted to make sure that you would live." As a warrior, she knew that she would witness more deaths than those that had been witnessed in her past. She just didn’t want it to be him.


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