I walk through the open door and walk towards the garden. I take my time. Today, I know I am early. Cool draft rushes forward to kiss my cheeks. A continuous patter drown out the usual echoes of my lonely steps. I grin towards the sky.

It's raining today.

I make my way lazily to our stone bench, letting the raindrops roll playfully down my hair. My grin lingers at the youthful pleasure, savoring the anticipation. Another step, and I'm behind the apple tree.

The stone bench is dry.

I touch it. It's moist, but not wet. The hole was thatched a day before by the Templars.

The next moment, I am lying on my back. An arm presses against my forehead. A pair of feet dangle off the edge. My anticipation rolls off onto the floor. It sits there, on the cold hard stone, cooling.

I scan the ceiling with murderous eyes. The patchwork is solid. Dry, and solid. Like everything they do.

A groan escapes my mouth. My anticipation is now dead on the floor. I lie still. The soft patter of rain comforts me. For the first time, I don't like my bench. It's too hard. Too cold. Too long. We will sit at an arm's length again.

A cold draft chills my skin. I shudder. Winter is approaching.

Had it been a year ago, I would have smiled at the cold wind. I love the snow. The way it covers the earth. Silencing the world. Quietly. I love the peace – near total loneliness.

Strangely, I think I will be too lonely this winter. Even though there is someone merely an arm's length away.

For a few minutes, I lie, my eyes closed, mind devoid of thought. Then a soft touch wakens me. She's grinning sheepishly, and I sit up to make room for her. She pauses briefly, and leans down to touch the stone. The same spot that I checked. She looks up at the ceiling. The same spot that I looked.

I can't read her face.

She sits down in her usual spot. We are, again, an arm's length away. Neither of us are brave enough to dare closer. We sit awkwardly; even more so than usual. That's when I realize that she wasn't carrying a book. In her arms are blankets and pillows.

The bench is a perfect bed for her small elven height.

I get up. Her gratitude is obvious. A polite smile on both our faces, and then I leave. My feet are lost in the wide Circle garden. For almost a decade, they have never explored the evening garden. Now, they are forced to wander, pushed out of their usual place by an elven girl. They slosh through the wet dirt, leading gradually to other apprentices.

Jowan eyes me in surprise. I ignore him the best I can. Anders strikes up a conversation with me. I talk half-heartedly, and leave. I walk past Wynne, eventually finding a place for myself next to a gargoyle on the second floor. A solace under the raining sky.

I blame last night's abomination at today's loss while I gaze at the apple tree.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

I try to open the wooden door, but it's jammed. A solid kick only numbs my toes. It's frozen solid. My breath clouds up, steaming in the frigid air. I know what to do, but I'm afraid to do it. A worried glance over the shoulders. I strain my ears for any footsteps. All I can hear is my breath.

Slowly, my hand spreads over the corners of the wood. Warm fire issues forth, melting the ice. It's a slow agonizing process. Eventually though, the door relents, groaning under the heat.

The door opens smoothly.

My eyes takes a moment to adjust to the white world outside. The first snow had fallen. Spotless, pure, quiet. The smooth grinding sounds hum in my head. My solitary trail of footprints ends in the middle of the garden.

My eyelashes flutter as the snow falls ever so softly my face.

I fall onto my back. The deep snow softens my landing. Winter robes do more than enough to keep me warm. I feel myself melting into the landscape. The quiet, the loneliness, the peace. In this utter stillness, nothing can disturb me.

I find myself missing something that was never mine.

I let the emptiness reverberate through my core, thoroughly enjoying it without knowing why. There I lie for a long time, on what seems like an impossible infinity.

A frustrated flinch of cheeks reacts to the noise from the hallway.

I get up, and make my way to the stone bench. It's cold and empty. I sit down on my usual right, and greet her arrival with a nod. I eye her carefully, worrying. Sure enough, she begins to shudder on the stone bench. Her small autumn robes just weren't up to the job. Even at an arm's length away, I could feel her shivers.

My heart beats a step faster.

I feel daring. With a push off my foot, I slide closer. Closer than an arm's length. Close enough to feel her shivers against my robes. Close enough to know her thoughts.

My heart beats even faster.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders, spreading open my winter coat to share between the two of us. I don't hesitate, lest the brief moment of deliberation take away what courage I have.

My heart is racing.

Without even looking at me, she leans towards me. Snuggles into the fold of my arm.

I try my best to appear casual. Fingers close softly around her shoulders. A flick, and some shuffle, and she's warm. We're warm. She is so small. Even for an elf, she is tiny. She barely takes up room within my long coat.

I don't think I've ever been so close to her before.

What defense I had is undone when she leans her head against my chest. That's as high as her head can go, but it's perfect. Right over my heart. I know that she can hear its every beat.

Warmth spreads to the edges of my hands and feet. My face is red as an apple. Winter all forgotten.

We both stay still for a very long time.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—