Things begin innocently, if such a thing still exists. He begins to find excuses to watch her, to spend time with her. He'll catch her when she is away from the other companions she's managed to find during her travels. She welcomes his presence, and sometimes he finds all he wants to do is sit near her and enjoy her company by the campfire.

It frightens him.

On one such occasion, he's sitting across from her and watching her through the dancing flames of the fire. Her face is obscured by some Old World book. He inches over to get a closer look at her, and she is so absorbed in her book that she doesn't even notice. Her short chestnut hair curls against the fingers resting on her cheek. Her green eyes shine a little brighter with each word she words. His gaze travels from her face to her neck and chest, and his eyes linger on her chest as it rises and falls with her breathing. Her eyes lift up to see him looking at her with a predatory gaze.

"Hey," she says, amused. "Eyes up here, big fella."

"And why I should listen to you? Your chest is appealing to look at," he says. She laughs and gently slaps his forearm. He grabs her wrist and presses a kiss to her palm. Her hand strokes his cheek, and her touch is so light he can barely feel it. Her eyes lock on his and an emotion he can neither name nor understand wells up in his chest.

He leaves that night, without catching her attention, and doesn't go back to her for months.