Heron Lake Plateau To waste away the waking hours

Part of Niamh's sadness continued to seep through her, but part of her anger began to simmer as he looked at her quietly, and finally, laughed. She tilted her chin up, and her nose wrinkled. She hadn't meant to be funny- but yet again, just like with almost every other damn time she'd ended up hurt or angry, he'd laughed. Everything was a joke with him...But despite her anger, when he spoke, his voice much lighter than it had been before, she was surprised- and despite how stubbornly she wanted to stay angry, she wasn't sure she could. 

She watched him warily as he came toward her, but with every step her took, her resolve faltered. Like the ripples around his ankles, her anger, sadness and relief shook, alternating and trying to take a hold and control her. He came closer and made the hairs along the back of her neck raise when he reached out to touch his muzzle to hers. She shook, softly, upon contact, but she begged herself to be still, and for a moment, she closed her eyes. 

For a moment, that was all she'd ever wanted from him. He'd reached back out to her, and she'd been begging him, silently, to do that for months now. His touch was gentle but knowing, and she felt herself slip into a calm, warm state, and willed herself to slip forward and bury herself into his touch...But that little seed of doubt was still there. And all of a sudden, it split, and a sprout emerged. 

Her eyes opened, and they were unsure. She pulled her muzzle back and regarded him, clear gaze as troubled as the water that rippled with the breeze. "What do you want, then?" She asked. "I just...I just have to be sure. You can't want me and then back out on me again." She said. Even though she wanted nothing more than to simply believe he'd made his decision, she had to hear him say it.