The return to his chambers proved uneventful, as for Balen's mother had no interest in discussing the conflict between them. Balen was relieved and took the opportunity to sleep beside her, finally able to claim much needed rest. It was not until the morning did Balen feel his mother's arms around him, which gave him a comfort only in the fact that the embrace indicated that she would be all right to take on the morning.
They dressed silently, and Balen wondered who would be the first to break the tension between them. He thought of a dozen polite, benign comments to make to his mother to get a clue of her emotional state, but he thought it better to follow her lead and remained silent.
Ella entered the room cheerfully, humming quietly to herself. She held a plate of food for their morning meal and set it down on the table in the sitting room. She gave them a blithesome salutation and breezed through the sitting room to the wash room to fetch cups of water. Upon returning, she was startled when her eyes finally fell upon the morose pair. Balen sat at the table, famished, and began to pick at the plate of food. His mother sat atop the ottoman on the other end of the sitting room, idly brushing the tangles from her long, brown hair.
Placing a cup before Balen, Ella glanced back at Hilleen who ignored the servant's presence. Balen thanked Ella, which made him realize the sore and swollen state of his cheek and jaw. He touched his cheek gently, applying slight pressure and felt the dull soreness emanate from the bruise. Ella watched Balen with eyes that searched for an explanation to the strange atmosphere and situation with which she found herself.
"I am all right, Ella," Balen said as he looked up wearily at Ella. Her gray-lavender eyes stared back at him, and the concern refused to leave her face. She glanced back once more at his mother across the room and leaned in closely to Balen.
"What's happened?" she said below a whisper. Balen could only meet her gaze and offered no response. He didn't want to relive any of the hot-tempered emotions from the last evening.
Ella asked Hilleen if she required any assistance and reminded her of the available food. However, it was not until Balen had finished eating and stood up did his mother approach the table and sit down.
His mother's obviously cool temperament left Balen uneasy. He could not recall a time that his mother wasn't fawning over him or simply breaking down in tears when he upset her. Balen could usually calm her easily with a tender hug and complimentary words. Today, though, Balen felt unsure of his stance with her or how to reclaim his control over her demeanor.
The tension in his cheek was extending to his neck, and Balen pressed hard against his temple to alleviate the dull pain that now pulsated within his head. He walked to the floor-length looking glass beside the table where his mother sat. The rock-shaper peered at his reflection reluctantly and despondence overwhelmed him. The mark on his face had grown a faint black-blue and contrasted dramatically against his milky white skin. His long flaxen hair was disheveled, but Balen had little desire to comb it to a proper appearance. He stared back into his own silver eyes and wondered what the point was of fighting his mother or the council's wants for him, because nothing was changing and no one would listen to him anyway.
He touched the bruise once more, and he heard his mother's small, trill voice say, "Go see Crestamin, Balen. Ella, please go with him."
Balen looked at Ella's reflection in the mirror and then back at his own. He exhaled heavily and brushed back his chest length hair lightly with his fingers, straightening out the stray strands. He walked toward the door, and Ella followed close behind him.
"Don't be gone long," his mother said as he walked out of the door.
Ella gently touched the crook of Balen's arm, and her reserved, obedient façade fell away quickly. "Balen, what in Lord Voll's name happened? How did you get that bruise on your face?" Balen continued to walk forward, ignoring her question, which forced her to stand before him and halt his progress.
Balen looked away from her and looked down, shaking his head. The truth was not something Balen wanted to divulge to Ella, but he also wanted to alleviate her justifiable concern. When nothing came to him to say, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder and proceeded to continue down the hallway. Ella paused before briskly catching up with him and followed him to Crestamin's quarters.
The healer's quarters were directly next to Lord Umber's and the open door indicated that the healer had arisen and was accepting visitors. Balen rapt gently against the door, indicating his presence, and stepped gingerly into the welcoming sitting room. The room was brightly lit with an array of candles that dripped heavily with wax.
"One moment!" Crestamin called from the adjacent room.
Ella seized the opportunity to elicit information from Balen. "I know you don't want to tell me what happened, but could you at least…" she stopped speaking abruptly as Crestamin walked into the sitting room.
"Excuse me, you caught me in the middle of breakfast," Crestamin said, rubbing his hands together. The sight of Balen gave him a start, and Balen smiled weakly.
"Hello, Crestamin. I…" Balen trailed off, brushing his fingers against his wounded cheek. "I know this is nothing really, but my mother insisted I come to see you."
Crestamin's white hair was tied back tightly, which made his sharp features all the more severe. Gold rings adorned the sides of each of his pointed ears. Though he was as old as Lord Umber and an elder of The Mountain, the ages gone by were not apparent in his flawless, pale complexion. His white eyebrows furrowed as he approached Balen.
"I am very glad you did come see me," Crestamin said, raising his hands to delicately touch Balen's face. Balen flinched involuntarily at the touch. Immediately, a warm wave enveloped Balen's cheek and jaw, concentrated heavily at the tender sight of the bruise. The healing gave a shudder of relief and pleasing warmth within Balen, as Crestamin soothed Balen's tight muscles throughout his entire body.
The healer removed his hands from Balen's face. The rock-shaper was repaired wholly, but Crestamin continued to look at Balen with intense concern.
"Please, sit for a moment Balen." Crestamin indicated a set of seats in the center of the room.
"I really should get back to Mother," Balen said, but he found himself sitting down. Ella sat along the wall on a couch adorned with elegant fur pillows.
Crestamin sat in a chair across from Balen and crossed his thin legs comfortably. "Is everything all right with you and your mother?" the healer asked.
"Yes," Balen said, trying to smooth out any inflection in his voice that would suggest falsehoods. "Everything is fine."
"I see," Crestamin said, placing his elbow on the armrest of the chair and resting his chin thoughtfully on his hand. He continued to stare at Balen, an obvious dissatisfaction with Balen's response on the healer's expression.
"How did you receive that bruise, then?" Crestamin interrogated Balen further. Balen said nothing and simply met the healer's gaze.
"You do not have to tell me," Crestamin said, "but I want you to know that you can come to me anytime. Not just for healing of the body but healing of the mind as well." Balen did not respond, and the healer continued. "You are young and facing many challenges. Your immense power…the absence of your father – these things are difficult to bear alone. You are not alone, Balen. You have all of the council members to guide and support you."
Balen broke from Crestamin's gaze. The healer leaned forward and laid a hand delicately on Balen's knee. "Are you hearing me, Balen?"
"Yes," Balen said quietly.
Crestamin sat up straight and turned to look at the open doorway. Balen turned to see Lord Umber standing portentously in the doorway. Ella stood and nodded, giving Lord Umber a polite greeting. Lord Umber entered the room and joined the pair sitting in the circle of chairs in the center of the room.
"I was searching for you Balen, and your mother tells me you are right next door," Lord Umber said with a friendly chuckle. Lord Umber seeking him out gave Balen an anxious feeling, and the rock-shaper looked skeptically at the supreme lord.
"Indeed. I do not get to converse enough with our lord rock-shaper," Crestamin said, flashing a smile in Balen's direction. Balen was grateful that Crestamin neglected to mention his bruised faced to Lord Umber.
"Well, excuse my interruption, but I did want to speak to you before tonight's dinner," said Lord Umber, continuing to direct his attention at Balen. "I am still very convinced that we need to begin transitioning you, Balen, to take your father's seat on the council. Now that you have had some time to think it over, how do you feel about taking on the responsibility of a seat on the council?"
Lord Umber and Crestamin looked expectantly at Balen. His silver eyes shifted from one elder to the other as he grasped at an answer to Lord Umber's question. Balen couldn't help but feel an aching within his heart, because he knew that he wanted nothing to do with the council or its endless demands upon his time. His father had built The Mountain, and, from all Balen had heard, his father garnered the respect and admiration from his people. Balen felt ill-equipped to fill the legacy his father left him, and he felt no desire to claim that power. More than anything, Balen wanted to be left alone; left alone to make his own choice about his role in the world.
Despite this, Balen knew his wishes would fall on deaf, or worse intolerant, ears. He thought dispiritedly that compliance was his only way out of this inquisition.
"I feel honored and humbled by your faith in me. I just hope I do not disappoint you or the council members," Balen said, unable to look directly into the eyes of Lord Umber or Crestamin.
Lord Umber nodded and glanced at Crestamin. "I cannot imagine how you could ever disappoint us, Balen. You are Aurek's son. The Mountain is in your blood, and it is more yours than any of us could claim."
Balen looked back at Lord Umber reluctantly and did not respond.
After a brief silence, Balen sat forward in his chair and said, "My mother didn't want me to be gone long. I should get back to her."
"One more moment, please, Balen." Lord Umber's response was kind but showed authority. Balen sat back in his seat.
"The Wolfriders plan to return to their home tomorrow morning. Tonight, I would like to hold a private dinner with them and the council members. Your and your mother's presence is expected," Lord Umber ordered, returning to his normal demeanor of supreme leader.
Though Balen nodded affirmation, his heart began to pound heavily within his chest. The thought of the Wolfriders leaving as soon as tomorrow filled him with a desperate sadness. Life would return to normal, and Balen knew now more than ever exactly what that meant. The thought occurred to him that he might rather die than continue his miserable existence he found himself in before the Wolfriders arrived. Before Arrowstorm arrived. The archer's image pulled at the corners of his mind and made his eyes sting with the threat of tears. He swallowed hard and looked at Lord Umber in hopes that the leader was quite through with him.
The supreme lord stood, giving a polite goodbye to Crestamin. Balen bolted out his chair and said goodbye to Lord Umber before hurriedly walking out of the door. Ella walked a few paces behind Balen as they returned down the hallway towards Balen's chambers. Balen continuously fought off the onslaught of tears that tried relentless to fill his eyes. As they approached the door to his quarters, he stopped.
"Could you give me a moment alone?" Balen turned to Ella and asked.
"Of course, Balen. I'll go fetch your mother's new dress from the tanners," she said and smiled warmly at Balen. She paused a moment to look at Balen with a hint of concern but turned and walked down the hallway and out of sight without another word.
The moment he could no longer see her, Balen's breaths began to hitch within his throat. He walked away from the door to his chambers and headed aimlessly down the hallway. His mind swirled with anxious, despairing thoughts that forced one panicked wave after another to wash over him as he stumbled forward.
"No," Balen moaned to himself, which caused the tears to floor his eyes with a stinging intensity. They flowed quickly down his face, pooling at his jaw and dripping onto the floor as he hastened towards an unknown destination. He stopped finally, blinded by the tears, and leaned against a stone wall in a hallway that dead-ended at the Victor's Suite.
"Curse it," Balen breathed as a sob escaped his lips. He attempted to steady his breathing and calm himself, but the relentless tears and jagged-edged thoughts continued their attack upon him. He covered his eyes with one hand, though it did not stop them from falling, and breathed heavily.
"Balen?" The rock-shaper heard a quiet voice and could not determine how far the source of the voice was.
"By the High One's, what now? Could I have one moment alone?" Balen said with an angry trembling voice that caused his tears to worsen momentarily.
When no response came, Balen peered around to find the source of the voice. Down the hallway stood Arrowstorm. A torch on the wall cast a faint light on his features, but he remained mostly in shadow. Balen could see that he was not wearing his bow or quiver.
"Arrowstorm?" Balen said weakly in disbelief. The tears and sadness drifted out of him at the sight of Arrowstorm's honey eyes and wild auburn hair. The Wolfrider approached him silently. His face showed no signs of playfulness, but instead he looked at Balen with stern, resigned concern.
"You are crying," Arrowstorm said gruffly and quietly. Balen sniffed and nodded, unable to deny the fact to the on looking archer. "What's happened?" he asked.
Balen looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. "What is wrong with me?" Balen pleaded, ignoring Arrowstorm's inquiry. Balen looked back up to meet Arrowstorm's gaze. "Why does everything make me unhappy?" The tears threatened to fall once again.
Arrowstorm turned his head quickly to stare down the hallway at nothing. "Someone's coming," Arrowstorm said so quietly, Balen almost didn't hear it.
"Owl pellets," Balen cursed and looked around, frustrated. His gaze landed on the doorway to the Victor's Suite, and his mind flickered with an idea. Grabbing the center of Arrowstorm's tunic, he pulled the Wolfrider towards the suite and swung Arrowstorm around and through the door before closing it and fastening the latch.
The sitting room of the Victor's Suite was pitch black except for the stream of light that entered through the crack at the bottom of the front door. It was enough light for Balen to see, next to the door, a small end table with fire implements strewn about its flat surface. He picked up pieces of flint and found the tinder to be dry and ready for lighting a small flame. His face still hot from tears, he struck the flint haphazardly, for Balen rarely had to light his own fires and only watched servants start them. Arrowstorm took the pieces gently from Balen's hand, and though he could only see the faint outline of his shape, Arrowstorm lit the tinder with a flash as if the darkness was no impediment to the archer.
Balen took the sulfur-soaked wooden stick and proceeded to light the candles strewn about the suite. The task calmed him and allowed the tears to dry from his eyes as he attempted to collect his thoughts. Making his way back into the sitting room to extinguish the match and blow out the tinder, Balen noticed Arrowstorm examining various decorations and fur throws and pillows about the room.
"Is this your room?" Arrowstorm asked, peering at a pair of antlers that adorned the wall.
"No," Balen said, sitting down heavily into a plush chair in the corner of the room. "It is Tundle's room. He will not mind that we are here."
"Smells like ash," Arrowstorm said absent-mindedly, though Balen couldn't smell anything but the lingering aroma of the bitter burning sulfur of his matchstick.
"You should not be here," Balen murmured, staring blankly at an unremarkable spot on the floor before him.
The words captured Arrowstorm's attention, and he approached Balen.
"No, that is not right," Balen said with a twinge of annoyance in his voice as he shook his head. "You can be anywhere you want to be. I should not be here. With you." He rubbed his face roughly with his hands, but the rock-shaper could not shake his sadness.
Arrowstorm knelt down before Balen and gazed up at him with eyes that searched for understanding. The Wolfrider did not speak.
"You are leaving tomorrow?" Balen asked, the melancholy in his voice and eyes remaining palpable.
Arrowstorm nodded, and the dim light cast shadows across his sharp features with each movement. "But there's no reason to fret, Tuftcat. You won't need to take anything when you come to the Holt…"
"Just stop Arrowstorm. Do not even say it," Balen interrupted him and covered his face with his hands.
"But Balen," Arrowstorm said softly and reached out to touch Balen's hands.
"No, Arrowstorm," Balen said aggressively, sitting forward in his seat. The archer continued to kneel firmly before Balen and didn't flinch at the rock-shaper's exasperated movements. "Do not talk about going to the Holt. I cannot bear it. You do not understand," Balen said, feeling the rush of emotion causing dreaded tears to form in his eyes once more. He breathed in heavily, attempting to not let sadness and despair take him over again.
"I want to understand," Arrowstorm said, his voice monotone and controlled. "I want to know you, Balen." His brow furrowed slightly, for just a moment.
"I can't begin to tell you," Balen said, his eyes darting about the room as he attempted to wrap his mind around a way to get Arrowstorm to understand.
"Of course you can. Why…"
"Because it is everything. It is my entire life. My mother, my father. Everyone in this blasted mountain," he said, his voice raising in volume and breaking as the hot tears slid down his cheeks. Arrowstorm did not move from his vigilant position before Balen and continued his steady gaze. Shame and anger twisted in his thoughts as Balen looked back at Arrowstorm's calm, hazel eyes. He felt foolish, for he could not stop the tears or hide the anger in his voice.
"I'm Aurek's son," Balen said, his voice calming somewhat as he was reminded of Lord Umber's words from moments earlier. "I cannot leave The Mountain," Balen said despairingly.
"Did the sun rise and set before you were born?" Arrowstorm said, his gaze upon Balen never faltering. Balen's face twisted in confusion at the Wolfrider's words. "It will rise and set after you leave. They will find a way without you, Balen."
"No," Balen said, frustration bubbling up within him. Balen searched for a singular way to describe a complex mess of emotions. Balen could only shake his head at the notions which disgusted and enflamed him.
As the moments passed, Balen looked at Arrowstorm, and his sadness about his ever-planned future was replaced with a painful reminder of the Wolfrider's soon departure.
"How am I supposed to go on like I never met you? I do not think I can," Balen whispered as thick tears flowed anew.
Arrowstorm leaned in closer to Balen and placed a hand on the leg of the chair upon which Balen sat, but he did not touch any part of Balen. "That's just it, Balen. I can't leave without you." His words sent a red flare through Balen's body, and he could only look into Arrowstorm's exquisite, feral eyes.
"Since I first met you, all I care about is making you smile or trying to stop this mountain from crushing you. And I think about you when I fall asleep and wish you were lying with me. All I want to do is put you on the back of my wolf and ride out to the Palace."
"Why?" Balen said, still in a daze from Arrowstorm's words.
"Why?" Arrowstorm asked back, unsatisfied with Balen's response.
"Why do you care if this mountain crushes me?"
Arrowstorm's eyes drifted down for a moment. He then returned Balen's gaze. "I don't know. But when you send to me…" Arrowstorm drifted off and thought for another moment. "…I want more of that."
"I cannot send," Balen said, which caused Arrowstorm to raise an eyebrow to indicate his disbelief.
Balen shook his head, and Arrowstorm rose to rest on his knees and become eye-level with Balen. "Send it to me, Balen," Arrowstorm said, his eyes boring into Balen's.
"Send what?" Balen asked.
"All of it," he replied.
Balen looked down once more, feeling exposed by Arrowstorm's intense gaze. He recalled all of the times he thought about Arrowstorm when the archer wasn't with him and how he felt undeniable drawn to him. Balen looked back at Arrowstorm, realizing that he had never felt this way about anyone before. What if Arrowstorm leaves, and I never feel this again?
Surrendering, Balen conjured up the emotions on the forefront of his mind and sent out the wordless thoughts to Arrowstorm. Once he felt their minds connect in a lock-send, Balen's mind opened like a punctured artery, and a fount of emotions rushed to Arrowstorm's open, receptive mind that accepted it without resistance. Balen began to dig deeper, and his most shameful and repressed thoughts pushed out of him. All of the anger, fear, and hopelessness that Balen held tightly within him loosened, and he shared it all with the Wolfrider.
As he went deeper into his mind, Balen cut off the connection with a start as his thoughts almost touched upon his secret soul name. The effort of the lock-sending overwhelmed Balen, and he was blinded by tears that had fallen during their intimate sending. Arrowstorm reached forward and lightly touched Balen's hair. The archer's lips parted.
Balen's eyes locked upon the small blade in a sheath strapped to Arrowstorm's thigh. Arrowstorm jerked back as Balen grabbed the handle of the blade and ripped it forcefully from the sheath. Balen looked back briefly at Arrowstorm before bolting out of his chair and walking across the room.
"Be careful with that, Tuftcat," Arrowstorm said with a hint of panic in his usually calm voice.
"Is this sharp?" Balen asked as his eyes remained on the blade in his hand.
"Yes. Very," Arrowstorm said as the concern rose in his voice, and Balen could see in the corner of his eye Arrowstorm moving toward him.
Balen looked quickly around and darted to the floor-length mirror that adorned the sitting room. He peered at his reflection, his eyes gleaming, and fell slowly to his knees, cradling the blade in his hands. Balen watched, in the reflection of the glass, Arrowstorm kneel cautiously beside him.
"I want you to cut off my hair," Balen said flatly as he continued to stare at his reflection.
"Your hair? Balen…"
"Do it now, please, before I lose my nerve," Balen said, shoving the blade into Arrowstorm's unprepared hands.
"Are you sure about this?" Arrowstorm said wearily, gripping his fingers around the handle.
"Yes," Balen said forcefully and finally turned to look Arrowstorm in the eyes.
"All of it?" Arrowstorm asked, clearly trying to stall for time to reason with the rock-shaper.
"All of it," Balen said, resolved.
Balen returned his gaze to the mirror, and he watched as Arrowstorm surveyed Balen's chest-length, straight, golden hair. The archer reached out and clutched a bundle of strands in his left hand. With his right, he lifted the blade and awkwardly began to saw at the piece of hair until it released. Arrowstorm held the blond strands in his hand and peered back at where the piece had once hung. The strands fell from his fingers, and Balen turned his head to look at the fallen strands himself.
"No moving," Arrowstorm said and used his blade-free hand to direct Balen's face to forward-facing again. The Wolfrider proceeded to cut another piece in a similar fashion.
As Balen watched the Wolfrider work, an electrifying rush shot through his body each time the blade made a faint shick, and the strands fell to the floor. His breathing became heavy, as he continued to focus on Arrowstorm's eyes concentrating on the task before him. Each time Balen's head moved slightly from the pressure of the blade, the tingling waves pushed through his thighs and up his back. He soon lost track of the extent at which Arrowstorm had chopped off his hair; rather, he watched the Wolfrider and thought how his skin might feel or what he looked like without his tunic or leggings on. The thoughts left him blissfully aching.
Arrowstorm dusted the stray strands from Balen's shoulders, which forced Balen to gaze intently at his reflection once more. His once thick mane of hair now was short and jagged around his head and gathered up to a flop of strands that fell across his forehead. Returning the blade to its sheath, Arrowstorm continued to peer at Balen, now with a hint of anticipation on his face.
After a long moment of staring into the looking glass, Balen turned to look at Arrowstorm. The archer cocked his head and smiled slightly, studying Balen's hair. He reached out with both of his hands and, with one sweep, combed Balen's remaining locks straight up, which caused them to stick up messily. Balen watched as a wide smile spread across Arrowstorm's face.
"There you are, Tuftcat," Arrowstorm said, as if he had finally found something that he had been long-since searching for.
The sensation of Arrowstorm's fingers against his scalp and the piercing beauty of his honey-brown eyes set Balen ablaze like a matchstick held to burning tinder. He leaned forward on his knees and allowed his body to press into Arrowstorm's. The rock-shaper pushed his fingers through the Wolfriders auburn hair and breathed out at the relief of finally feeling the soft, thin strands for himself. He instinctively focused his gaze on Arrowstorm's lips, which were now parted and matching Balen's heavy breaths with his own.
Arrowstorm wrapped his arms around Balen and pushed him onto his back and retracted back up to sit on his heels. The movement left Balen's thighs on each side of the Wolfrider's hips, and his lustful desire for him could no longer be hidden or denied. Balen could only gaze up and shift his shoulders to squirm under him.
A passage of lock-sending opened between them as Arrowstorm filled Balen's mind with his intimate, unspoken thoughts. He could see his own reflection within Arrowstorm's sending, but it was unlike how Balen could ever see himself. Instead, he saw himself through a filter of carnal wants which made Balen want to scream in affirmation. Balen allowed his own thoughts to enter Arrowstorm's mind.
Whatever particularly gave Arrowstorm the indication to do so, Balen didn't know, but he began to pull up on Balen's tunic and simultaneously press down on the exposed skin of his stomach. Balen instinctively began to sit up to assist in the easy removal of his tunic, but Arrowstorm forcefully placed a hand on Balen's chest, giving him a strong order through his sending not to move. Balen was left exhilarated and anticipating Arrowstorm's next move, eager to relinquish.
His tunic removed, Arrowstorm focused his attention on the laces of Balen's leather leggings. He pulled at them, without pausing to find a knot to undo, and the pressure of his hands upon Balen's thighs and the ties of his leggings caused Balen to moan unexpectedly through sealed lips. Arrowstorm pulled off the leggings, tossing them carelessly behind him. Balen felt the intensity of his desire mount as Arrowstorm peered down at him. The Wolfrider placed a rough hand behind Balen's knee and lifted the leg, leaning forward, until Balen felt Arrowstorm's sharp teeth make contact with the skin of Balen's thigh. The rock-shaper twisted forward and fell back with a groan. It didn't take much work or long effort before Balen writhed under Arrowstorm with an all-encompassing, throbbing pleasure that left him breathless.
He closed his eyes, and it took several moments before any thoughts at all returned to his mind. Arrowstorm's hand slid up Balen's chest and stopped to brush his fingertips gently across Balen's collarbone. The Wolfrider knelt down and pressed his cheek again Balen's neck. He heard Arrowstorm breath in steadily through his nose and gingerly press his teeth against the delicate skin of Balen's neck. Though Balen had experienced more with Arrowstorm in these moments than he ever imagined possible, he wasn't ready to be through with Arrowstorm yet, and he sent these sentiments forcefully to Arrowstorm through a wordless sending.
Arrowstorm sat up on his heels once more and looked about the room. Their minds still locked in an intimate sending, Balen felt Arrowstorm's desire to find a blanket of furs. He felt Arrowstorm's want to place Balen upon them, and what he sought to do next left Balen with a blissful anticipation.
Balen sat up and felt the mess of his former strands of hair fall away from him. He brushed away the hair from his skin that was sticky with sweat and realized that blond hair was strewn about all around them. Balen touched Arrowstorm's elbow to garner his attention and pointed to the door that lead to the spare sleeping chamber in Tundle's suite. Arrowstorm gazed at the door and turned back to Balen. His expression turned to that of an animal readying itself to pounce and devour its prey.
Sweeping his arms under Balen, Arrowstorm lifted Balen as if he was weightless and pushed him through the door into the room. A single candle lit the room casting a dim glow upon the pair. The archer sat Balen atop the raised stone platform and stepped back. Balen glanced behind him at the fur blankets covering the plush mattress. Arrowstorm's brow furrowed, and Balen could feel his dissatisfaction with the bed. He retrieved a fur blanket from the bed and placed it on the floor. Balen watched excitedly as the archer placed a second blanket atop the first.
"Get onto the furs," Arrowstorm gruffly murmured, and Balen slinked to the ground obediently.
Arrowstorm pulled his fine leather tunic over his head and stepped gracefully out of his leggings. Balen took in the sight of him as the archer knelt to join Balen on the furs. Arrowstorm reached up to remove his leather headband, but Balen sat forward which caused Arrowstorm to stop. He grinned at the rock-shaper and crawled closer to him as a result.
Balen entwined his fingers in Arrowstorm's unruly hair, and Arrowstorm pressed his mouth against Balen's neck. The steady stream of sending resumed. The joining was instinctual and aggressive, and when the Wolfrider sunk his teeth into Balen's skin or squeezed his limbs causing gentle pain, Balen sent again and again for him not to stop and not to care if it hurt him.
When Arrowstorm was spent and the two elves lay panting, their limbs still intertwined, Balen closed his eyes and felt sleep drifting near.
"I've been waiting to do that since I first laid eyes on you," Arrowstorm said, the furs muffling his voice.
Balen could only smile and pull in closer to the Wolfrider. In a few moments, they were both asleep under the furs.