Witch's Marsh prorsus

Being in the presence of Germanicus was like standing beneath a cool waterfall after staggering through a hot desert. The introduction, the hunt, the sharing of selves — there was a great simplicity about it all, even though neither young man could be called simple.

Ico, feeling faintly unworthy of the title "storyteller" despite his habits, watched the grey guard for a moment longer as he dipped towards the hare. Then Ico, too, took another small nibble of the prey as a comfortable quiet fell upon them.

When the quiet was broken, Ico felt his heart flutter moth-like in response. You're... very welcome to walk with me, he affirmed gratefully. As far as you'd like. It was not a short walk out of the marshlands, past the lake and through the woods, but Ico felt that the time back would flash by in an instant — for he intended to relish every moment of this new feeling.

Had he clocked any meaning behind the words "one day", he might've dare suspect that Germanicus was feeling something similar.