Stone Circle Fallen like hundred year old trees missed your body

Boone's silence stretched; Reverie found herself painfully aware of her heart in her throat, in her ears. She felt unmoored, adrift on some wild grey sea, centered now on that single point of contact. That little scrap of warmth was the only thing that held her to reality.
Then he spoke. She hardly understood at first; he was sorry? But then he was touching her, speaking again, and for a moment Reverie could only marvel at how he always left her breathless, breathless and wanting more. She pressed closer, tucking her head under his chin with a soft sound of contentment in her throat. And she thought that maybe Boone was right.
Maybe she didn't deserve that. Maybe she deserved more than being someone else's problem; maybe she deserved more than sorrow and abandonment. Here and now, carefully grooming dust and sand from Boone's fur, she felt none of that. She felt... as if he understood. And it was odd, really; she hadn't expected it, not from him, not from a man like that. But Reverie was realizing that Boone was not the kind of man she'd assumed. He wasn't the kind of man she could simply move on from and forget.
No; she saw now that he was far brighter than that — not the gilded sun but the stars and the moonlight reflecting off the waves, not the light that blinds but the light that leads you home. Once, Reverie had wanted nothing more than to be free, untethered, bound to nothing and no one but whim and whimsy. She'd wanted the world, she'd wanted to blaze the brightest trail and press her lips to the sun itself. But things were different now. She was different.
She wanted to follow the light that led her home.