Northstar Vale With our final breath

“Trees,” she agreed, steady against him, breathing out softly. “Trees, and maybe a place a den could be made, for… for when we might need it.” A sharp intake of her breath was given, her nerves fluttering. She knew he didn’t like enclosed spaces—but at some point, it would become necessary. “And a place where I might be able to have a garden, for herbs and such…”