It was as if the entire world had gone still between the push and pull of lungs. Some cold wind come over them and stole the warmth that had been building between them right out from his chest.

A cold realization.

Maybe he had gone too far. Maybe he had been too clumsy. Reminded her of some terror from her past. Some ghost, too strong to be warded by the anchor of their bones and flesh tangled to braids by the fire. Scent of pine needles and oak smoke, too fragile. The velvet softness of rose cleaned skin, too giving to hold back such sharp and wicked things.

I don't do that sort of magic.

Fuck, he thought. Hands loosed some, fingers crept back a hair.

Then she spoke his poem to the wind. Cold swirled warm, then hot, and he was all smile and bright toothed. Pressed to him. Bumped to him. Ground to him. Anchor too heavy to move. So he grabbed on tight. Felt her shift, his fingers clamped between muscle, and a warm wetness that was hot with hunger he felt in his own bones.

Wiggled her ass against him. Worked off her legwear and sat there in her stark, stunning nakedness.

Gods he was hard as a fucking rock.

Wanted to grab her and toss her and pin her to the bed roll and lose himself in the twist and tangle of their weird ritual. Tears, and blood, river mud and white smoke. And she fucking knew it. Could feel it in how he coiled for her. Swayed for her. Gripped her like a life line with his right. Pressed down with daring with his left.

His breath knocked against the cage of his heart. A moan rattled from his throat. "Tormentor," he hissed so sweet as he smiled.

Managed to pass all the thirst pooling in his mouth as he pressed his fingers, still trapped in the rag, gently in. And down across fleshy veins and wells of her glorious cunt.

"I'll do whatever the lady, wants," he managed, in fractured and splintered restraint. "Oil for her feet?" He kissed her neck. His right hand trailing up over her breast. "The knots worked out of her aching back?" A nuzzle. One hand all tease and play, the other, smooth and press along her shoulders again. "Just say the word."
 
As his fingers teased her aching need, she gave a breathy gasp. He was bending toward her in a way that made her breath hitch and her pulse jagged. "Tormentor?" she echoed, pressing her arse back, feeling his cock trapped against her. He was the one who leaned in first! Bells in his hair, brushing his cheek against the line of her wrist... Each touch, each press of skin to skin, planted thoughts she had not thought before, drew her closer to the storm he carried.

She had never crossed this line before, never let another hunter’s hands press against her. But with him, all that had been tossed aside like ash in the wind. Her boundaries might as well have never existed. She’d spent her life walking between veils, listening to whispers in the floorboards and echoes of screams that clung to walls. What was real, what was memory, what was a trick of the dark... it all bled together after a while. Made her doubt her own hands. Her own feelings. Her own godsforsaken thoughts.

And now this.
Come morrow, she would have one ghost more.
One question more. Add it to the pile.

"Don't start blaming me now," she smirked and reached behind with one hand. Her hand moved without thinking, fingers dragging across the meat of his thigh until her hand found the hard shape of him through his trousers. "Oil for her feet?" "The knots worked out of her aching back?" Goosebumps rising on her flesh from the touch of his lips and breath on her neck.

She fumbled behind at his belt buckle, anything to release him. "I have something else in mind." Daniyah attempted to turn in his arms. "I want to feel you." she breathed. The world had narrowed to the pull of his fingers, the press of his lips, and her rampant pulse.
 
He was all too aware of the trail of her palm. Fingers searching up the tickling tender of his inner thigh. Sent little shivers ups his spine. Felt her bump the pressed and bundled swell of his erection. And fuck if he didn't like the grip of her fingers taking what they wanted. A blurred line of heat left along his thigh as she snapped to turn. Her hands fumbling about his belt. The strings there beneath what kept him bound again.

His hands slipped off as their lips pressed, and heads angled and snogged all hungry and wet for each other. Breaths hot. Lips smacked. He turned, just enough to let words fall from his bruise blushed lips. "I'm dirty," he said, almost shy.

A hitch of hesitation there. His hands hovering a moment.

But she was there. Eager and kissing, and naked as all the truth for him to see. Cazadores hunted. Everybody died. And they were there.

A breath like a growl rumbled at the back of his throat. Curled into low laughter as he tossed the rag down by her clothes, all wet flop and kissed her. Right hand full of her hair, nose full of her breath. Lungs empty and hungry for more. "Maybe," he said, hands fumbling for the hem of his shirt. "Maybe we slow down?" he put forward, though his lips pressed and his teeth bit soft against tender swell of lips. Scraped soft with shivering breath.

Remembering the words, wanting things she shouldn't, and how she trembled, soul scraped and bone tired.
 
“You think I care that you’re dirty?” she wondered. Her eyes dragged over him, slow and thick with want. All sweat and grime and scuffs, hair messy, breath ragged. He looked like something hauled out of a wild place, and fuck if it didn’t make something low in her clench tight. “All filthy. Makes me… want to taste it,” she added, teeth grazing the corner of her smirk.

"Maybe we slow down?"

She stilled. Hands half-curled at the hem of his pants, breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. Her pulse thudding dumb and loud in her neck.

He’d been all heat and hunger a moment ago. Fire in his eye, hands bold like he meant to claim her right there. He wanted her... had all evening. She could feel it in the way he looked, talked, and touched. The way he trailed his fingers down her skin like he was reading scripture off her scars. Growling. Grabbing.

And now he wanted to slow down!?

Was it her?
Was it him?
Was this just what happened when two broken things tried to touch without cutting?

“Right..” spilling out under her breath. “You wanna slow down?” His clothing was half undone, hers not even on. She bit down on the urge to say something sharper. Something she would regret. His lips pressing against her felt like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. What the fuck is that? Did he want her or not? Her lips parted under his, but her brow furrowed deep. Daniyah was not doing this stop-and-start game all night.
 
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"I mean I didn't know you wanted to taste it," he confessed with a hot beat of a laugh. Eased back, just enough. Pulled his shirt off in one slip. Tossed it. Felt the cool night air, and his warm skin turn to goose flesh, his nipples to nubs.

Skin, mottled with bruises. Lined with long jagged scars from the rake of claws , punctures from arrows and fangs, and swords that had all missed vitals by fractions and inches. The witch fire burns the latest addition to his collection of trophies. All gleaming with sticky sweat, and tangy musk curled about a plain of ghost white hair. Trailed down to the hem of his pants where her hands were. Funk from the road. From their hunt. And some days after that. His eye didn't come off her though. His hands cupped over hers. "Its been awhile for me," he confessed. "With anyone. Let alone someone who recited my poem," he felt his cheeks flush impossibly hotter at that. He gave her hands a squeeze.."I got in my head," nuzzled her slow. "Worried I'd smell like a toad stool," smiled like an unrepentant sinner in the booth. Showed teeth in his half grin. "I still want you," he wriggled out of his pants.

Bared it all. Hung at half mast after his little panic attack, fat and wet with his own strings of sticky clear mess drooling down the shaft, and pooling at the patch of his white shag. And, while he tried to hide it on his face, just remembering how she had said the word filthy all sharp toothed and wicked, had him ticking back up.

He took her hand and guided her fingers back up his thigh. To the base of his hardening cock

"I wasn't lying when I said you drive me crazy," he said as his want kept rising.
 
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"You say the sweetest things..." She could feel him grow hard against her palm, and she wrapped her fingers around him, giving him a few firm strokes. Could feel him twitch and pulse in her hand. Thumb smearing the slickness pooled at the head.

Gods, he looked wrecked in the firelight, scarred to all hells, all flushed, breath catching in his throat, half-wild from want and worry both. Her free hand drifted to his chest, palm flat over the planes of muscles. Giving him a firm push back onto the bedroll. She followed him down, straddled him, and bent low. Pressed her face against the curve of his throat and breathed him in. Rubbing herself into him, feeling his scent in hers.

Her nose brushed the sweat-slick curve of his neck. Drew a long, deliberate breath. "Toadstool," she murmured, lips ghosting over his skin, "happens to be my favorite mushroom." She teased, lowering her head to lick a hot trail up his throat. Road dust. Ash. Steel. Sweat and old leather, sharp and bitter. The funk of a man who hadn’t seen clean sheets in a week. He smelled like a man who bled for his dinner. Beneath it, lingering still, was the faint trace of rose, clinging like a ghost to the wreck of him. It curled around her in lungs.

Her kisses wandered lower, her tongue darted out to taste him, savoring the salt of his sweat. Teeth grazing his collarbone before she moved to his chest, tongue swirling around one stiff nipple. Her mouth and tongue slid slowly over his ribs, tracing the old stories carved into him, claw marks, arrow scars, punctures that had nearly undone him. Over his stomach, grinning at the muscles jumping at the ticklish caress. Moved ever lower, past his navel, down the path of white hair. Her breath gusts over his groin, her lips brushed against the damp curls at the base of his shaft.

Angled her head just right to lick a long, stripe up the underside of his cock, the salty taste of his excitement bursting across her tongue "Mmm, you taste good." she murmured, before taking him into her mouth, lips sealing around the tip of his cock. She sucked him in deep, relishing his flavor and the shape of him on her tongue.

Daniyah lifted her head, releasing him. Watched how his cock shone with her saliva. "Still worried you smell like toadstool?" she asked coyly, continuing to stroke him, root to tip. Watching him for any discomfort before descending to take him in her mouth again.
 
Fuck. Now she was teasing him! With her hand gripped about him sure as one of her bolts. Had him bite the corner of his lip. Down hard. All ragged breath as her thumb traced "Fuck-ing hell," he said with a laugh. How it sent shivers racing up and down his spine.

She pressed him down, and down he went.

Her legs worked around him, her limbs unspooling as she followed him down. Hair a wash of tickles and traces until her head pressed at the crook of his throat, her whole weight worked into him. And fuck how he liked that.

Was that her heart beating there against his?

Her smell, all bright bitter herbs mixed with the sweet scent of decay in the river mud. Her hair full of milkweed, and bank mist. Saltfire ash still on her skin.

His hands wrapped around her. His head curled to hers. He wanted to feel all over her. Nerves be damned. His ankle twined about her ankle. His calf hooked about hers. Stretched and squeezed himself against her to feel the maddening rub and rasp of her skin against his. Her strength against his. Care in it. Measure in it. But press in it. Want in it too. The two for each other.

Toadstool. she muttered against his neck.

"Fucking toadstool," he laughed-half-moaned between panted breaths, his eye locked on to her with tilt of his head.

Saw how the plump, shiny swells of her lips hovered over his prickled flesh.

Happens to be my favorite mushroom.

Then she fucking licked him. And he shivered and squirmed as he turned his neck paradoxically away, and into the trail of her witchful tongue. Lungs full of her. He ached for that tongue. Wanted it between his lips. Chased it. But she was gone. Down a trail, all tingle and tip. A hand pressed firm to hold him back before it slid on down.

Wet and sharp. Lick and scratch. Over bone, scars, and tender muscle still set to twitch. Lower still, and each press there on hollowed him out. Had him twist back, lips bit between teeth. His hands in her hair. Grasping at handfuls of strands. Pulling. Tugging. Rolling his careful grip as she carved the breath right out of him with the glide and rasp of that blasted tongue. He looked down like his life depended on it. Saw those plump, blush colored, lips just there by his cock. Like measuring a fucking catch against her face. Her eyes glowing like portals to the holy fucking hells themselves.

Mmm, you taste good.

Put her lips to it like a kiss.

Had his fists clench about her hair, loose and slip free as he rolled back, all relieved and rumbly moan as she took him in.

She slid back up. Wet pop from her lips. Cold shiver up his spine as he twitched down to his ankles. His hand up the trails of her hair. Fingers gentle through the roots, palm about the side of her face.

Still worried...

"No," he said as he coiled to the stroke of her hand. Squirmed with delight as she took him back in. "It's your favorite," he moaned with hitched breath. Toes all twitch and weird little croak from his throat. "Fucking hell, Dani-" a shiver stopped him dead in his tracks.

Had to remember his breath as it all started to build up. His breath, shallower and shallower. Cock fuller and fuller. A hand, grabbed about her hair. Gave it a playful shake by the roots. Slid down to her ear to cup around it. Rub firm fingers down her neck, and shoulder. Grabbed hard against her breasts. Found nipple between knuckles, and rolled the bud there between bone. His hips hinging hungry with the rhythm of her coaxing. Peered down through the cracked lid of his eye.

Damn if she didn't look good with his cock in her mouth though. Stared at her all agonized smile too pleased on his face.
 
The groans and twitches and shivers, the glazed look in his eye as he stared down at her. He was babbling too, a constant stream of 'fuck', 'yes', 'hells' and her name that was all music to her ears. She watched him and felt it like a living thing twisting in her chest. Made her bones hum and her gut clench with a delicious ache. His satisfaction was a quiet, but violent thing. In the curl of his mouth, the slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers flexed and tensed around her hair. She wanted to memorize every rise and fall of his expression, every twitch of muscle that betrayed his pleasure.

It was a rare sight. The way pleasure painted across a face usually hardened by danger, how it softened his edges just enough for her to remember he was flesh and not some creature of sinew and steel. To watch someone she started to care for and someone she wanted, surrender, just for a moment, to something purely theirs… it was dizzying. Daniyah hummed low in her throat, she delighted in his reactions.

Toyed with him, alternating between the tight suction and the flickering tease of her tongue. She wanted to devour him whole, taste and touch all of him. She smiled with her mouth full of him when she felt his hand twist in her hair, tugging just enough to send a zing of pain through her scalp. Took him as deep as she could, until her nose was buried in the coarse hair at the root and she nearly gagged. His taste flooded her mouth, and the musk of him filled her nose, making her head spin.

His cock swelled larger in her mouth. She moaned around him when he found her breast, torn between pleasure and pain. Each twist of knuckles sent sparks of sensation shooting straight to her core, making her ground herself shamelessly against his thigh. Her tongue laving the pulsing vein on the underside as her free hand slid down to fondle his balls, tugging and rolling them like her personal worry stones. Pulled back until only the tip remained in her mouth, only to have her mouth be filled again when he bucked his hips. "Hmmph."

She could hear the way his breath had gone ragged and torn, feel the tightening in his balls as she rolled and tugged them. She would keep going, sucking and licking and coaxing until he either pulled her off or spilled down her throat.
 
Huff after puff, his head kept on spinning. Watching her between blinks and rolls and rumbles on down of want that shook through his bones. Looked to see her wild mane shift and billow like ghost fire between his fingers. Breath all shudder and shake out of him as she went down and down. Nose scratched across his bush and he fucking laughed all blush filled laugh at that.

"Fucking obscene," he moaned as his head rolled to one side, teeth biting his lips he held her roots tight. Squeezed her nipple hard. His spine curled and hitched and she made a choked sound that was utterly filthy. And he made little knocks of breath against his throat as he loosed his grip with the one hand, and brushed back her hair. Then smoothed the wanton grab of the other to something more gentle. Cupped her whole breast in his palm. Half worried. Too excited. She moaned around him and his head rattled, lulled back all exhaled yeeeah as his fingers ran across and squeezed soft flesh, and tangled hair.

His feet dug into the wool blanket, toes all grab and spread against the ground, and his leg flexed beneath her weight. All straddled and pressed against the hard meat of his thigh as she just kept working that tongue under him. Those fingers. Her hips. Her hands. Grabbing up his sack and playing with it while she just went on milking and tugging and taking him in as her ass ground and smeared up and down the bone of his thigh.

Damned. How he twisted and turned under the beast's moon. All pant and gasp. How he could just let go give in. Surrender completely to her wiles.


"Hmmph" there she was. Teeth about him. Relentless.

"You wicked," he played too bright. "evil," breathless delight. "Beautiful witch," he peered through his lashes down at her. Laughed through shaking cold breath. Tattered to ribbons with heat on the next pull.

He grinned. Wide and sharp and aching with teeth of his own. Remembered his hands. Limbs melted to lax, filled rigid with strength. Bent, curled, and hooked his grip under her arms. "Get up here," he growled. Pulled her on up all plop onto the plane of his chest. Grabbed her by jaw and neck and kissed her all eager and want. Slowed.

Let the feeling of her linger let his lungs breath her in. Scents twisted and mingled to one. Felt drunk on it.

Let his hands feel her bones, worked down her neck as he pant full and heavy breaths. "Wildfire," he muttered breathless between presses of lips, and slow twists of tongue. Rocked his hips to her slow. Cock sliding and slipping about her ass, bones pressed in their shared mess.

His mouth parted as his hands explored lines of her. Muscle and scar. Spine and ribs. He raked hungry. "I want you," he said drowned in her tangles of pale gold. "Daniyah," the name was like a song through his bones. His to sing. His to remember. Thumb traced the side of her face. Went over plump lips. "I want you with me," he said as they moved. Eye green with all the possibility he saw in her. Lips easy in their toothy smile.
 
She was drowning in him, drunk on the taste of him, the feel of him. Then it grabbed her by the neck and pulled her to the surface.

Wildfire.

Stars were wheeling above.

His voice had broken against her lips when he said it, and but the word rang loud inside her chest, reverberating through ribs and spine like a name pulled from fate’s own book. It hit her like a spark to dry grass, igniting both surprise and something tender. The sound of it slithered through her, familiar and strange all at once. That name had once lived in the rough timbre of her old master’s voice, flung at her in both affection and scorn. Wildfire, when she fought too hard, burned too bright, refused to be contained. Both a curse and praise.

She hadn’t heard it in years. And now here it was again, reborn in a mouth she craved. Her heart stumbled at the echo, a shiver threading down her spine. She hadn’t expected that from him, Garrod calling her that. He had used it, here, now. The way it came from him, unthinking, instinctual. It wasn’t a guess, it wasn’t a game. The word slipped from his lips like an invocation. It was a name that knew her.

She stared at him for a heartbeat, still straddling that breathless, tangled moment. His breath against her skin, his warmth pressed to her. This fool of a man, this wrecked, grinning mess of scars and grief, looking at her like she was something worth catching fire over. She kissed him again, slower this time, a press of lips that lingered. Deep and open and still a little rough.

"I want it...I want you...just like this. Fuck..." She adjusted her legs and seating, reaching behind her back to guide him to her wet entrance. She straightened up, her hands on his chest as she sank over his cock. She slowly pulls at his shoulders, tugging him up so they both shift to a sitting position. Their bodies pressed against each other.

"I want you with me,"

A thumb over her mouth. Nibbled on the soft pad of the thumb. In this moment, he could ask her to follow him down into a den of plague rats to look for the rat king, and she would answer the same way. She presses her lips against his. Almost tenderly. "Garrod…" Mumbled his name against his lips. Her voice raspy after her mouth's work.

"Yeah, I can go with you." she said. And meant it. The words came too easy. Slipped out like blood from an open wound. She didn’t think about the hunts. The trails paved in old bones and bad coin. The cursed chest that the mules guarded this night. Didn’t think about what it meant to stand beside someone like Garrod. She just knew she wanted to.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the madness of this moment.
 
His hands clutched to her back. Arms braced about her like thick hemp rope holding up a lantern against the swirling darkness. Fire so hot it ate away the wax, singed the threads, and set every one of his fibers to smoke. Set him to burn down to the bone.

His name on her tongue. The ways she said it then. Rasped out and sweet against his lips. He was all kindling for her flame. Too glad to feed her terrifying splendor.

Each pant, each pump and shift of their hips between the bump of lips and grab of hands, shifting and rolling through the whole of him. Washes of cold shivering blankets of goosebumps burned out by the next wet surge of her cunt worked down to the bone, all tight around his cock.

Slow one moment. Eager and clumsy the next as he fucking smiled and grabbed and lost himself in the sweat shimmered twine of their bodies tangled and pressing and stretching together between the wet slaps of the rhythm they worked to find.

"You'll go with me?" Almost a tease in the. Moment as lips pressed and teeth bit, tender about the cut on her lips. Sucked. Licked and turned his neck to wrap his head around hers. Necks coiled. Because he wanted to feel as much of her as he could while his heat, his want, his cum worked up and up in his haze of desperate and breathless feeling. "Come with me, then" he growled in her ear then, breathless and bright as an ember's pop.

Fingers hooked on her shoulder, grasped and grabbed, tender enough to feel her sway. Sure enough to guide himself to the rhythm. Kissed her on the neck. Licked her until all he could do to hang on was burry his face in the nape of her neck. Turn. And press his head against hers.

"Daniyah,"
 
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His voice a rasp in her ear, not even words anymore, just the sound of someone coming undone. She was dimly aware of the sounds spilling from her throat, ragged moans and wanton curses, delirious pleas for Oh fuck, yes, just like that. The words ran together into one long moan. She wound her arms around his neck, clinging to him. Nails digging into flesh as if the wind might carry her off otherwise.

Ecstasy was too soft a word.

It broke over her like a storm.

Not gentle, not slow. No sacred warmth or whispered bliss. This was jagged, wild. A tide cresting after too many moons of drought. She felt it rise in her, clawing its way up through the marrow. Something the gods themselves had carved into the bones. She saw nothing. Only shadows and green fires behind her eyes. Heard nothing but his breath against her skin, the drumbeat of their hearts locked in rhythm. And somewhere, deep beneath it all, the low hum of the world shifting on its axis.

When it faded, she slid off him and fell on her back, ruined on the pine needles and wool blankets, slick with sweat and breathless. Her body ached in the way she imagined cliffs must ache after the waves have punished them. She lay there, chest rising slow, then all too fast. Muscles twitching like they hadn’t quite caught up with what had just happened.

She turned her head toward him, hair plastered to her cheek with sweat. “I should’ve known,” The corner of her mouth twitched. "Of course you’d ruin my solitude.”
 
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He went blind with her. Deaf with her. Mouth hung wide as all of him pressed up and arched and twist like the embers spit up from a fire's countless tongues. A moan dragged out of him, as something down in the pit of him cracked, broke, all spilled out in gouts.

Eye so wide with the sight of her as he crashed.

Set adrift in weightless oblivion. A void of clean searing white. Pierced through by red pinpricks of agonizing release. Pulled him through needle holes and pumped him down a bottomless pit to surge against the walls. Cold. Damp. Stone. An utter wreck against all the anchor she was to him.

Held her tight as the ebbs and flows pulsed. Swirled and throbbed against him. Leaked out all, sticky and warm. Her weight fell back, And he watched her a moment. All glowing wreck herself. A shiver down his spine that had his ass do a funny shake.

Something like a smile there, tugging at her lips. Sharp teeth of her own, teasing as they seemed so keen to do.

He smiled himself. Limbs slow to move. Sweat slick on his shoulders and across his back. Beading down the center of his chest, and trailing down his core. His excitement still stiff against the warm push and spill of them. He loomed forward, lips split to grin as legs shift and feet worked out. Hair a wet and stringy curtain over his green eye.

Spine curled, and palms splayed to claim the ground beside her head. He looked down at her, Liked how she looked all too tender against the woolen blanket. Pine needles snagging at some of her hair. He shift toward her. Hinged his hips as he grinned through all the exhaustion that clawed at him.

"You weren't complaining none," he pushed the hair out of her face. Bent down and kissed her cheek. Ran his against hers. All want for more warmth. Uttered soft and secret between them. "Wildfire," A name he would never forget.
 
Her bones sang.

Daniyah blinked up at him, a little startled, when he leaned over her. Her hand reached up lazily, brushing strands of hair away from his forehead. Feeling the warmth, the sweat. h’s lips curved into a crooked grin. Her hand twitched toward his arm, tracing the line of muscle, the scars under her fingers. “Oh, I did take notes,” she said, voice teasing, letting her fingers trace a careless line down his arm. “Little pointers, feedback… nothing major..” A sly smirk tugged at her lips.

She shifted closer, just enough to press against him. "You’d be surprised how picky I can be." Nibbled at his ear when his face was close to hers.

The name burning like a spark in the dark. Wildfire. Her heart did a little wild skip. She tugged him down gently, firm but careful, until his head rested against her chest. His weight pressed against her, warm and real, and she could feel the steady pull of his breath.

"Wildfire?” she murmured, she could not hide her curiosity. “Where did you get that from?"
 
"Nothing major," he said, with warm lilt to his voice.

The nibble had him too pleased for all its little sounds. Its sharp bite. Sent shivers down his spine. All naked wiggle and shake to his toes. Made his skin tingle cold where she had trailed down his lines. Warmth bleeding right off.

"Picky?" he played along, as she pulled him down, slow and easy.

Came undone. Head looked down with half a worry to the mess. Remembered how she had practically beamed at the toadstool. Went down anyway. All squish and press, dribble and drool. Was kinda nice, in a sticky way.

"Suppose I've noticed, a few... preferences," he teased. Fingers playing with her hair, twining and twirling a damp lock, till he brushed a loose pine needle out of it. "Got a hint at how much you cared about the way of things, right when you tied those bells in my hair," smiled wide. Let his cheek nuzzle against the soft sticky warmth of her chest. another braced about her, to carry some of his weight. "Looked at me like I was a lost mule," he laughed against the cage of her heart. Ran his hand up the roots of her mane. Listened to how her heart thump thumped its beat. His eye looked off into the woods. "Suppose there is truth in that,"

It all felt like a damned dream. There together. Fire spent, embers still glowing with that last willful burn. Heat rising and falling between breaths and touches.

Wildfire? Where did you get that from?

"You looked ready to blow." fell out of him. Brow raised as he found her again. "All silvered gold and the smell of pine oil. Witchfire, and oak." his hands found her arms. Fingers ran up her veins. Palm smoothed over after. To her wrist. Let his fingers trace the old wounds. Let his thumb work all firm and easy press. "Scars like the eyes of a birch tree," closed his eye. "Burn too damn bright in this eye," he said it sure as the day would rise. "Blinding, even when its closed," wrapped his arms around her. Held her close. "And, there it was, an ember, just waiting for me to pluck from the wake you left me in," he laughed. Opened his eye again, and looked up at her. All truth in his green eye. "Wildfire,"
 
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