Firefly Glen Sayin' "who are you and where are you from?"

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Once again, her nerves had flared to life, anticipating what was to come whilst simultaneously wondering what it even was. Hug. The word was simple, its pronunciation easy, but the meaning eluded her. It was either a gift or an action, given the way in which it had been used in a sentence, but she dared not question him. In the next few moments, the answer would be presented to her, she was sure. In the meantime, her heart thumped harshly against her rib cage, disallowing her to forget that she was truly and utterly anxious. That, despite the ease that washed over her only moments ago, she was on edge; the hug was both dreaded and looked forward to—and for the same reasons! Swallowing, she forced an exhale out between her teeth, hoping that it might lessen the intensity of the thump, thump, thump in her chest—it didn’t.

Suddenly, there was a warmth surrounding her, his touch gentle. Initially, she was frozen where she stood, eyes wide and unblinking whilst her mind tried ever so desperately to assess the situation. And when she found that her thoughts would not settle, that her conscious would not cooperate, she abandoned all hopes of analyzing her predicament and chose to quietly live in the moment. Without realizing it, her eyes fluttered shut and a sigh signifying pure tranquility floated out of her mouth. Craving his touch and the attention that came with it, she leaned into his embrace, head finding a place to rest against his neck. “I have never been given one of these before…” admitted the child, speaking in hushed tones. Asterr had always made certain to prevent the heat of their bodies from escaping them, especially during the months of winter, but never had the Chieftess pulled the girls into her arms. It was strange, but pleasantly so.

As if suddenly remembering where she was and what she was doing—as well as with whom she was doing it—she pulled away. Smiling sheepishly, it was away from him that Kaori looked, granting herself a moment to recollect her bearings. When it seemed as if she was with a clear mind, at last, eyes of muted blue found his, lips pulled upwards still. “You’re—you are—very warm,” she noted, unable to keep a certain fondness from seeping into her voice. The raven, though born into the nippy world of fall, favoured the warmth over the cold. The warmth, she realized, that he could provide just as well as her mother had.

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