Bitterroot Valley you give out the glory of heaven, you give out the pain that is hell.

It is her name (never in its full but let her feeling whole) that dragged down the fires of her worries. Assurance that he would not leave her. Not now, at least. Although she could not bear the burden to think there might be a world without him. Alas she thought such things with others before and how harshly the world had ripped them from her. If she could fight against it all, thrash against the harshness of the world, she might secure his place by her side for a long time. Protect him as he protects her.

Fight like you. She murmured against his chest. If she might harbor a fracture of the strength he wields, she would be untouchable — or so she believed.

Then she is overwhelmed with selfishness. The undeniable need to seek out more from him. Northern tongue too? More. She held close the word he had taught her for the fiery lights above the earth, but there was more, she knew this. Hesitantly her head would shift so that she might gaze at him through a sidelong look, wondered what he might make of her attempt to intertwine herself further into his life. His knowledge. His world.