Sleeping Dragon Knock me off my feet

The fond reassurance soothed the sting when Thuringwethil eventually pushed her back, as did the kiss square between Wildfire's eyes. Her belly swooped and dipped, the yearling grinning foolishly even as she stepped back accommodatingly. Every nerve in her skin and every drop of blood in her veins tingled, craving the commander's touch again. But Wildfire savored what she had been given.

"They're well," she said, a little bit distractedly, though her focus cleared a bit as she elaborated, "I told them I met someone. I didn't tell them much about you but they know you're a woman. It surprised them but they're supportive." Wildfire chuckled, feeling a slight flush of self-consciousness before continuing. "One of my brothers was lost to the famine. But otherwise they came through it okay. It was good, really good, to finally catch up with them."

She found herself falling back on her haunches. Wildfire knew she should cut to the chase, mention her brief and peculiar meeting at Rosings. Business was more pressing than pleasure. But recollecting her rendezvous with the Redhawks made her think of something, a question that had popped up in the back of her mind as she and Gavriel traveled back to the dormant volcano they called home. And it was relevant while she was still feeling doe-eyed and regaling Thuringwethil about seeing her family.

"What are we?" She hadn't meant it to pop out of her mouth without warning and so bluntly too. Wildfire blinked at herself, then tried to backtrack. "I mean, I'm not super fussed on labels and stuff... but when I tell my loved ones about you, what should I call you?" Her cheeks heated and her amber eyes dropped, feeling suddenly like she might have overstepped her bounds by putting Thuringwethil on the spot.