The crisp sound of the wood crunching underneath his heavy boots did nothing to appease Jaron's sour mood. Any resemblance to the steps of a human that could have perhaps been those of his friends was long gone by now, and he was roaming his way through a thick wood amongst a dense, white mist that clung to his thick clothes and made his skin feel uncomfortable and sticky. The gray sky above him, which he could glimpse through the budding leaves at the treetops, reminded him of the bitter winter that they had just barely left behind, so like the last. It had now transformed into a gloomy wet spring which, and that thought, combined with the fact that he was lost, weighed on his mind.

I'm such an idiot, he thought, panting shamelessly. He wanted to heave his weapons away, but he would not dare, despite how much they were weighing him down. He was tired. Not physically, really. If he wanted to, he could very easily keep going and find his way back to his hunting party. But there was something about this wood that unnerved him, and combined with the murk around him and his overall exasperation with his own stupidity, he did not want to move anymore.

The young knight sat himself down on a rotted log, his haunches immediately going from sore to soggy. He grimaced, but didn't move, and rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. He shook his head at himself. His comrades would laugh at him, no doubt, when he managed to find his way back. Assuming that I will, he thought as he stared up at the trees. The cawing of birds above him caused chills to run down his spine. He could not understand how he had been so absentminded to lose his way, but he had never seen this part of the wood before.

For a long while he sat and calmed himself, catching his breath and relaxing his tense shoulders, and he listened. Aside from the fluttering of the birds and creak of the tall trees, the forest was disturbingly quiet. It did not help his mood. However, if it had not been so quiet, he would not have heard the soft, muted footsteps not too far away.

Jaron sprung to his feet, and for one fleeting moment he thought it might be one of his comrades, but quickly realized that the steps would have been much heavier. These were much lighter and slow, not the sound of a knight searching for someone. Besides, why would one of them have gone off on his own? Hesitating only a moment, he began to follow the sound, the source of which was obscured by the fog.

Afraid that he would lose his only chance to get out of this damned forest, but weary of trespassing on the path of a dangerous foe, he took long but slightly tentative steps. As the sound grew louder, the forest began to grow more quiet and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, but his pace quickened. Suddenly, out of the fog, was a long shadow that seemed to be embraced by the branches around it, perched on the side of a small hill.

Pulling air into his suddenly dry throat, he called out, "Hello?"

The figure spun, staring, and large brown eyes met his. A young woman, no older than 15 or 16, froze him in his place. Her face was soft but narrow, with petite features and high cheekbones, held in contrast with her round eyes. Her skin was fair and her hair fell in dark brown ripples around her face and onto her shoulders. Her clothes were well-sown and thick, but suitable for perusing the forest, and she wore a cloak of deep red. In her hand was a satchel, which she now held more tightly and drew closer to her body.

"I mean you no harm," he said quickly, holding out his hand, but still she took a step back at his movement. She reminded him of an animal of the forest. She seemed very one with her environment - it was he that was causing the trouble. "I mean it. I merely require assistance."

Her darted over him. "Assistance?" she asked, her voice was smooth but not quite as warm as her eyes. He nodded. "Of what kind?"

He didn't speak at first, and he realized that it was pride keeping him from making such a confession before a beautiful woman, even one that he did not know.

"I'm lost," he said, hoping that she would understand the anxiety in his voice. Her brow softened slightly, and he took this as a good sign. "I was hunting with several others when I...when I lost my way."

She paused again, and her eyes narrowed. "I see," she said. "Where are you from, sir?"

He hesitated, but he figured that it would do no harm to tell her his occupation. "I am a knight for the king, dear miss," he said. "I often reside in the castle not far from here."

If the revelation that he directly served the king startled her, she did not show it. "And where did you last see your party?"

He thought. "We had just past a small waterfall next to a large clearing, and were heading north. I had been chasing my game on foot and then...and then I was alone and could not find the others."

He thought he saw a small smirk shape her lips then. "Oh dear," she said. "You have lost your way, indeed."

He tried to appreciate the humor that she apparently found in the situation, but he could only manage a half-hearted chuckle and a pained smile. "If you could be of any help, miss..." he said. "Are you familiar with these woods?"

"I am," she said, stepping towards him, holding up her skirts as she heading down the small incline of earth. "It will be dark soon, so its best if I show you the way."

"Thank you, miss," he said sincerely. "I hope I do not cause you too much trouble."

"I will take you back to the waterfall," she said. "I assume you can find your way from there. Perhaps your comrades have waited for you."

This time he did laugh slightly, though he doubted he last comment was entirely sincere. "I doubt that," he said. "To be honest, as the situation stands, I would prefer if they weren't."

She smiled at him - a full one now, bright and beautiful. "Understandable." He found himself staring at her as they began to walk together. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes and the smirk returned. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "I'm afraid I haven't asked your name." A small reminder of the lack of manners he was showing in the situation.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," he said. "I suppose that's how I should've started things off. I am Sir Jaron."

"Sir Jaron," she repeated. "I'm Alys."

They were silent for a while as they walked at a purposeful but hardly tiring pace. Even with the minimal conversation, he found her company much more suitable than his own. But still, the quiet of the wood seemed to bear down on him.

"So," he said, "is it often that you go wandering about in the woods alone?"

"Not so often, I suppose," she said. "I've been enjoying the new season."

"Well, it's been rather terrible if you ask me."

"Oh, yes, with the rain," she agreed quietly. "But rain isn't always so bad."

"Do you go out in the rain?" he asked, startled.

"Sometimes." She smiled at him.

"I doubt your husband would approve," he said.

Something flickered across her face for a moment, and he thought that he had made a mistake in his assumption, but then she said, "If he does, he does not say anything."

"He is patient with you, then," Jaron said, wrestling with the tiny ache of disappointment that drummed under his ribs. "A good man."

She made a low sound of agreement, but said nothing.

They continued on in a barely comfortable silence, when Jaron's stomach sounded abruptly and loudly, reminding him that he had not eaten since that morning.

"Um.." He blushed slightly as Alys regarded him with humor. Without a word she reached into her satchel and retrieved a handful of dried nuts and berries, holding them out to him. "You are truly a generous woman, Alys," he said thankfully, taking about half of what she offered him.

As he ate and they continued walking, he asked, "Is that what you were doing out here? Gathering food? I can't imagine there's much this time of year."

"I take what I can find," she said. "You can never have enough."

"Mmm," he agreed as he ate, thinking on the life of a young woman who ventured out into a misty wood on her own. "I'm curious, what does your husband do to make his living?"

She stared at him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I...I," he started, immediately feeling embarrassed. She lifted an eyebrow at him. "I suppose I just want to know...that you are cared for." His voice sounded a lot tighter and higher than he would have liked it to, and her second eyebrow joined the first. "I would not like to think that this -" he gestured to her satchel "- is all you have."

Alys laughed softly. "No, no, this by no means all I have," she said. She returned his gaze. "I am well cared for. You need not be concerned."

He nodded, feeling foolish. This mood unfortunately, would not be improved, even as his fortune was at that moment, for through the tangle of the trees he saw the stream where his comrades had last been present. "Well I'll be," he sighed. Their walk together was a mere fraction of how long he had been wandering around aimlessly.

"Well," said Alys, stopping with him where the trees halted for the stream. "I assume that you will be able to find your way back to your comrades from here."

"Yes," he said, shoving the last dried berry in his mouth. "I will return to the lodge where they will no doubt be waiting and laughing about me."

She smiled at him reassuringly, and there was an awkward pause. "I must get home," she said, glancing up at the late evening sky.

"Thank you for everything," he said. "I would probably be still wandering around there if I had not found you."

Alys nodded, and without another word, turned and headed back into the thick woods. Jaron stared after her for a few moments, waiting for her to look back at him and give him another one of her soft, sympathetic smiles. But she didn't, so he turned away, heading in the opposite direction.


While Alys did not necessarily feel rushed to get back home, she wished the trip would not take her as long as it was. She had gotten into the habit the past couple of nights of staying out late in the woods, doing as she pleased, but Selendrile was set to return tonight and she did want to make him wait, which undoubtedly he already was.

So Alys set off through the woods at fast pace that was a little difficult with the thickness of her clothes and the train of her cloak, but she was thankful for the layers as the air around her cooled in the dimming light. The darkness did not bother her - she knew the woods well and, unlike Sir Jaron, had no fear of getting lost, even in the thickest fog.

She laughed slightly at the thought of the man, but even so his rich blue eyes and rather awkward smile would ghost across her vision when her thoughts would wander. She sighed, and shook her head. What a silly man, she thought. A knight getting lost? She laughed again. It made the trip back easier.

When the thick of the branches and trees around her broke and she saw blond hair glistening in the moonlight she picked up her pace, and Selendrile turned at the sound of her steps. She smiled and threw her arms around him and he embraced her lightly in return. "Welcome back," she said.

He gave her a small smile, but with a flicker of strange amusement. "What's so funny?" he said.

"What?" she asked, startled, letting go of him.

"You were laughing. I heard you," he said, lest she deny it. "Or I heard someone, and it sounded like you. What was so funny that you were laughing to yourself out there in the dark?"

"Oh," she said, blushing slightly, though she was not sure why. "Nothing in particular. I was just happy that I would be seeing you."

He stared at her dryly, still slightly amused, indicating that he didn't at all believe her. He let it drop though, and they walked together into the cottage, warm and bright from the fire in the hearth.

Their home, or rather, Alys' home that Selendrile had found her and that he only shared with her when the sun was down, was another abandoned cottage, not unlike the one that he first brought her to after he carried her off that hilltop where she had been left for dead. However, it was more elaborate, possibly belonging to a slightly more well-to-do family once, and consisted of a small kitchen, and two rooms, which suited Alys's needs fine. In any case, with Selendrile's exploits, the place never felt like the home of a peasant, for he was always bringing back gifts for her - intricate, colorful dresses, and glistening jewelry that she could never find an occasion to wear.

So when he said, "I brought you something," her shoulders automatically dropped a little, though she tried not to let him see. It was not that she did not enjoy his gifts, for she did, it made her happy to know that he thought of her, but she hated that they went to little use. But when he gestured to the small package on the table, her demeanor changed.

She beamed at him as she opened it to find a fresh loaf of bread and a large chunk of strong, rich cheese.

"You do listen," she said, grinning as she tore herself off a piece of bread and went to get a knife to cut the cheese. He sat down at the table. "What were you doing outside, by the way?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's more interesting than sitting around in here waiting," he said.

She sighed, sitting down and beginning to eat. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want to make you wait."

"It's alright, I didn't mind." He paused. "What kept you?"

She hesitated, savoring the taste of the food, then shrugged. "I just lost track of time," she said. "I've been doing that the past couple of nights. I like it out there."

He watched her eat for a few moments. "I wouldn't want you to stay out too late. It's not always safe."

She smiled at him, reassuringly. "I know." She looked down at her food. She was not quite sure why she was not telling him about Sir Jaron, but she felt in her gut that it was not a good idea to do so, for the knight's safety, and her own. She did not like to think ill of Selendrile, not after all the time they had spent together. It was suitable for the circumstances under which they first met, but now she liked to think they knew each other, trusted each other. Strangely enough though, it was this that made her so unnerved by her apprehension over telling him a simple experience.

She tried to shake herself from her thoughts in the least conspicuous way possible. "Tell me about your trip," she said.

Selendrile smiled softly at her, and then began to tell her of some of things he had seen over the past couple of days. He did not travel too frequently, but enough that it did not bother Alys much if he was gone for a few days. He told her he did this to scope out new hunting grounds, or to add things to his already vast collection. She knew this was not all, that there were things he would not tell her, but she figured she would have to accept that for now. So every time he returned, she would ask him about it, with the hope that, as time went on, he would give her more and more information.

In any case, the stories of his exploits became a sort of lullaby to her, even when he spoke of interference he had met from those with the ambitions of felling a dragon. Luckily, this story had none of that, merely rolling hills and bizarre natives, and soon Alys, feeling relaxed and full, started to become drowsy. She did not realize it, though, until Selendrile's voice stopped and it took a moment for her to recognize he was staring at her, grinning slightly.

She sat up, embarrassed. "I think I'd best be off to bed then," she said.

He nodded. "Before your knock your head on the table."

She gave him a look of dry humor as she stood, and he merely laughed silently in response. She walked over to him and gave him a quick, soft kiss on the lips before telling him, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said, and he watched her back as she retreated into her bedroom.

Alys paused as she closed the door behind her, the room illuminated dimly by a single lamp by her bed. The flickering flame turned the brown walls orange, and created a ghostly glow in the long, oval-shaped mirror at the corner of the room - one of the few gifts Selendrile had given her that went to regular use. Glancing at the mirror briefly, she started to undress, her drowsy mind making her thoughts become suddenly heavier, the quiet of the room feeling oppressive.

It was not so strange, she conceded, that Sir Jaron was still occupying her thoughts. Alys had little to no contact with other people outside of Selendrile, so that first new face she had seen in months would no doubt leave an impact on her. She told herself that this was the only reason she kept on summoning up his strong profile in her mind's eye.

As her clothes dropped away, Alys found herself missing the time they had spent in the south for the winter. The weather was warm and the atmosphere was vibrant, and there were people that she could see every day. They did not speak the same language, and many of them looked so different from anyone she had ever known, but she was happy and comfortable there. She and Selendrile had spent nights surrounded by music and voices, and she had danced for the first time since she was a child.

And in the dark corners, enclosed but not entirely hidden away from the activity and life around them, she had felt Selendrile's possessive grip on her hips and thighs, and tasted his tongue. His touch both inflamed and terrified her, the sheer flood of energy that it brought to the surface of her skin overwhelmed her, and even though she felt so a part of him in that moment, that to be separated would cause her pain, she found herself pushing at his chest and begging him to stop. Alys remembered how he had held on to her skirt with frightening force, his face buried in the crook of her neck for a long moment.

"Please," she had whispered. "I can't." She thought if he did not let go of her soon she would break down into sobs, and she could not bear that. But he did let go of her, moving so suddenly and quickly that she barely saw him; and it did hurt, and unable to remain still, she darted back to her room, soaking her pillow with tears and dragging her soft sheets back and forth between her legs in frustration.

Alys sighed heavily and finally looked her own reflection in the eye. These were not thoughts that she should be having right now; they only made things all the more complicated. She looked back at the door, and thought of Selendrile sitting outside it immediately made her feel vulnerable, but also horribly irritated. She had known how to pleasure herself since she was young, but it was easier to pull the wool over the eyes of a naive, wishful-thinking father than it was on overly-observant and disturbingly perceptive dragon. She did not know what he could detect through walls, whether it was the smell of her sweat or the rising thud of her heart in her chest, which were no doubt already present. As a result, she often saved her physical self-indulgences for the daytime, but she could not help the restlessness that seemed to come over her at night

Alys settled herself down on the bed, but her body was buzzing with restiveness. The dimness of the room reminded her of the fog that had seeped through the forest that day, and the shadow of Sir Jaron amongst it as he called out to her. She thought of Selendrile's hands on her, and the fact that all she had to do was open the door to feel that again, and she fell back onto the bed, her hands hiking up the skirt of her nightgown before she could stop them.