Overture Downs winds of east

okay, morwenna murmured, her voice soft, almost inaudible. her nose dipped toward the herbs she’d gathered, working them with precision. the scent of earth and green filled the space between them, mingling with the sharp tang of blood that clung to his wound.

she leaned closer, her tongue brushing against the edges of the injury to clear away the dried crimson, tasting the metallic iron of him. her touch was careful, deliberate, the pressure of her ministrations firm yet tender.

as she worked, she let the question fall from her lips, quiet but laced with an unspoken hope. will you come see me during the winter? on the way back.

her blue eyes flicked up, catching his briefly before settling back on the task at hand. the caribou skin rested heavily on her shoulders, but the warmth it offered felt distant compared to the quiet fire that flickered in her chest, waiting for his reply.