Day 2

They finished the bowls, and had some difficulty in filling them with water. At long last they simply carried the water in their hands from the river (their camp was not far from the river). They had heated rocks in the coals of the fire, and then dropped them into the water. Once they were sure the water was safely boiled they drank the water with their hands. It was warm and tasted of wood and charcoal, but they didn't care. They drank a full barrel of water between them.

Their stomachs' were growling by then. They started boiling the willow in the wooden bowls. They twist them into string, and he manages to set two snares before it's bedtime again.

They lay down next to each other, she snuggles against him. He tries to put her hand around her stomach, but misses by just a little. His hand brushes something higher, and suddenly she feels something besides his hand touching her.

"It's my sidearm I swear," he says.

"What is a sidearm?" she asks, although she feels like she should know.

"I think I was trying to make a joke," he says.

"Not a very funny one," she says turning to face him.

"I don't think most of my jokes are," he says.

"I disagree," she says.

"We really need to make clothes," he says pulling back from her, letting the cold air in between them despite the fact they'd agreed they needed to be close, needed to share body heat.

"I have a better idea," she says with a grin pulling him close to her. Kissing his mouth. Digging her fingers into the space between his skin and the mud on his back.

Memories, as vivid as life, entering their minds.

Steam all around them in a hot wet room. She kisses him, with desperate need. Her head is clouded with something…something indescribably strong, animal. "I want you," she whispers.

Wherever their flesh touches it is held together by the surface tension of droplets of water.

"Why? I mean no." he says. He pushes her away. She's hurt, but not surprised.

It's taking all of his restraint; there is more than water droplets pulling him toward her.

"This is a little out of line, don't you think?" he asks her. And his voice is firm. It hides all the wavering underneath, but she sees it anyway.

She pushes his body against the bench. He goes down easy. Too easy, unless she took him by surprise or he isn't really fighting it. She is on top of him. Kissing him, desperately trying to make him lose control.

"Want me?" she breaths. The question hides her insecurity behind it.

"No, no, not like this for crying out loud," he says rolling off the bench so she is squished behind him and the floor.

She enjoys the position for a second before he stands up, pulling her after him, and the words enter her brain. But 'not like this' is different than 'no.'

He dips her low as she kisses her. The feeling of her kiss on his lips does not leave him even as she evaporates in his arms.

"Don't you want me?" she asks.

"Let's get you washed up first," he whispers helping her up.

She grins, "As long as you do the washing."

The river is cool, but not so terribly cold.

"I've never been skinny dipping before," she says with a laugh.

"No, you wouldn't be the kind," he says. He runs his hands down her arms freeing the now wet mud.

She removes the soaked mud from his chest.

"I love you," he says.

She kisses him.

"You sure you want this?" he asks.

She nods in the darkness.