The Heartwood blackwound

Tremelia’s voice was soft. His name sounded foreign when spoken with her lips. Reno didn’t mind it, not at all. She seemed to carry herself confidently enough that the softness of her words was only momentarily disarming. The cowboy was pleased that she had not argued against his offered nickname. He was further pleased that she moved to step alongside him. The warmth from the three of their frames seemed to mingle in the air.

Mel wanted to know what they liked about the rain. Sayf’s response was quick, simple. He liked how it made him feel. He said that it excited him. Reno smiled at this, finding that he might have agreed with the slender man’s remarks. The question was turned toward the dusty ranger, though.

Reno’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one.

Hmm… there’s a question. Another moment of thought before Reno offered them the simple truth.

I like that it washes away the grit. Like its cleanin’ the world er somethin’. His cheeks were warm. Not quiet as personal as Sayf’s response. It was perfectly Reno.