King Elk Forest i will paint you in silver; i will wrap you in cold

<3

nathaniel did not speak, the cobalt of his pained gaze drawing in the glare of sunlight upon snow, changing to a sapphire hue that caused the girl's breath to catch — again. she waited on the edge of her voice for him to speak, but all at once tension flowed into her willowy limbs, followed by a glissade of warm sensation that pooled in her abdomen, almost uncomfortably. mona's lashes trembled as her eyes closed; the rochester's muzzle drifted through her scarlet fur, to the sensitive bulb of her ear, and then she felt his touch on her slim neck.
though she had walked at his side, had seen the length of his stride, his blood, a touch of the anger that lurked beneath his scarred surface, mona did not think she had ever before been so very miniscule in the man's presence. the yearling felt the latent power of his hard body as their figures mingled for a moment that stretched several eternities.
child of witches, daughter of druids — perhaps it was magick that breathed life into mona's small form; in this moment, she felt ageless, beyond her youth. three seasons yet separated her from maturity, but it was not a girlish emotion that beat now in the mayfair's breast.
nathaniel parted from her and mona cast her eyes to the snow, searching for composure so fiercely she did not at first hear the man. and then —
"don't ... i want to come with you, n-nathaniel," mona whispered, auds slanting backward. she dared not look at him, though relief washed over the girl like rainwater to know he was not going to leave her behind. but now there was something in her she must contemplate, and mona was self-aware enough to know she could not tell him of it — not yet. half-hoping he would touch her again, and yet dreading the chaos of sentiments that whirled through her, unchecked and unnamed, she was silent.