Stavanger Bay Smoking Embers

her ears tipped back as she did, stepping back at the small touch of affection. it was second nature to draw away from the touch, not out of offense. 

within a few heartbeats, she'd settled back into andr's shadow -- as if she'd never left, as if it were instinctual. 

or perhaps, as if she were afraid to lose him again. 

it was almost magnetic. every small shift. every movement. reflected in iaghe's own, as if she were the south to his north. never close enough to pester. just hovering, brushing occasionally. 

she understood that the he-wolf at her side posed some question, with a note of wonder, and fleur answered. 

but the sudden movement and piercing tone from the sunbeam had the wildling repressing a flinch, shifting minutely as she whet her speckled lips nervously.

if she'd been able, she'd have explained to the gilded girl what she was soon to go through.

what iaghe feared she herself might soon go through.