The Bracken Woods I know what darkness means

she held to him, winnowed by the snow. silvertongue was growing weaker, daunted by hunger and the simple fact that repeated travel had taxed her to a breaking point. but she did not complain; she had none. when a man's voice rose up, silvertongue stiffened beneath akavir's hovering arm. the last thing she wanted to face in such weather was a stranger. but the promise of a sheltered locale appealed so much that he might feel her relax in desperation against his flank. not enough to trust in someone she did not know, but more than enough to trust in him. yet silvertongue remained silent, watching the unknown man in expectant voicelessness.