Ravensblood Forest serenity

heda's breath was choked. "yes." and so sordid it was to say aloud and to feel the truth pinning her uncomfortably. for it was all connected: mahler to issorartuyok to bartholomew, father figures that dissipated on the horizon to seek their own way.
"i thought —" and now she impatiently brushed her tears away with crooked fore-ankle " — i thought — it's so stupid, but maybe i thought you for sure wouldn't if we were —"
bartholomew had always held her in these moments. now he lingered close but did not move to take her into his embrace. this made her feel worse, unmoored; heda clambered at once and desperately to rest her forehead against his shoulder, away from his gaze or the sea or the air.
he smelled like all of them, a gentle fragrance that lat the salt and sand and lavender aroma of his fur. her body relaxed little by little.
she wanted to stay here. she wanted to go home. she wanted to rewind to when she hadn't said anything and made things horrible and weird; she could have just loved him silently.
but there were not silences between bartholomew and heda.
"just — tell me you love me and you aren't leaving." her voice was muffled; she meant it in self-deprecation, but the joke fell flat: she was asking, even if she did not want to do so. "and that we can just go on leading sweetharbor together and — that you'll live your life, no matter what."