Firefly Glen Take you like a drug;

Magic of the stars. Superstition, he seemed to think, but she had noted his curiosity. Her wish might have been to wish for that to be true. She could read the stars and she had made countless wishes of her own. None manifested into reality. 

Did you make a wish?

A brow quirked at the thought of her being the thing that makes him warm. Just words, she told herself. 

I think you'll find me cold, she said. 

It was in her blood.