*I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters

Beds of grass, surrounded by the kindness of the setting skies, settled him in select happiness. A mess of curls laid arms length, arms wrapped defensively about herself. It would perhaps be a while longer before she learned to trust a little easier, to soften to the scene all about them.Arms and hands were not the only source of warmth, neither were bodies and flesh the comfort of comforts. Neither was worship of the living as well as memory served him more, than of moment she promised forever.

Yes, for a moment he was happy, nature and wishes, unlike the many whims he chased, they were not the comfort everlasting. If he had to chase this dreamlike state, even at the risk of stabs and burns on the ends of her anger, or at the edge of cliffs with the ever changing circumstance life serves them, he would. Together they had fought the monsters of man and mind, trudged through mysteries bizarre and grotesque, together they were made. He was born, and through the living he had found how to live. Nothing was promised in life, but she promised herself anyway.

In the roughness of her heart he found comfort, and he hoped she would find it in him, as well as to enjoy its warmth.