25. Reaction and Reassurances

Before long, Sunset descended toward the ground, but it was difficult for her to find her way between the tightly growing trees. In the end, she couldn't keep herself from breaking some of them, which so upset her in her perfect happiness that she called upon the unwieldy magic of the dragons and healed them, turning their needles to slivers of precious gems.

Willow and Varhog beheld the breathtaking trees as they shimmered and sparkled in the moonlight, a million hues of the rainbow.

"Wow," Willow breathed. "That's amazing, Sunset."

I could not stand that I ruined them. Feeling their pain in the midst of my perfect joy right now was enough to allow me to do it, her dragon replied, equally stunned by the unexpected result.

Varhog gently lifted Willow, helping her turn in the saddle so both of her legs were dangling over one side together. She leaned into his chest, borrowing his warmth.

"It's late, isn't it?" Willow said.

"Aye. Probably just before midnight," Varhog answered.

Willow shivered. "And it's cold. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, since we're deep in the mountains this close to winter. Where are we?"

"Let's get down and get warm, then I'll explain. Shall we?"

Willow nodded, accepting Varhog's help to get down from Sunset's back. "I suppose it's a good thing we left the hut with clothes on," she said. "We would probably have needed to return instead of starting off on some late night adventure."

Varhog grinned, mending his torn pants with magic. "That's true." He took her hand, guiding her a short distance into the trees. Willow began to notice a strange, sulfuric smell and that the air itself seemed to get warmer.

The trees abruptly cleared, and Willow found herself standing in front of a small pool of water surrounded—except for the small shore right in front of them—by large rocks and even larger boulders. Steam rose off the surface of the pond.

Varhog glanced down at her and grinned. "Last one in . . ." Willow needed no further challenge. Her dress was easier to slip out of than his shirt and pants, so she swiftly did so, running into the water a few seconds before Varhog.

"Is what?" she teased when they were shoulder deep in the water and she had hers arms around his neck. They had only gone far enough that he could still reach the bottom, so she pressed her body against his, holding onto him to stay afloat.

"Last one in gets to give the first kiss," Varhog concluded. "You should have let me finish, then you would have had a chance."

Willow giggled. "I bet you changed what you were going to say to work in your favor," she accused.

Varhog chuckled. "Perhaps. You'll never know, will you? But before I give you that first kiss, let me tell you about this place. This is a hot spring I discovered during the year I came of age and had to prove my courage in the initiation tradition of my people, when my horns grew their first curl," Varhog said. "We refer to it as the year we first get our horns, but they actually begin growing many years before, when we're around the age of twelve or thirteen. The year my horns first began to curl under I was seventeen. An Urgralgra ram must prove his courage by going alone on a hunt and subduing an animal with his bare hands. No weapons are allowed."

Willow asked, "Isn't that when Nar Garzhvog killed the cave bear by strangling it? Was it during his coming-of-age initiation?"

"Aye, Eartheyes, that's right. I wandered far from home, taking more time than was needed, enjoying the excuse to be by myself when nobody would bother me to rejoin civilization. I had no desire to be war chief, as did my uncle. I found this place and stayed here for a time. Then, fearing I would soon be missed, I decided I must return. On the way, I killed a wolf and carried his body back home to prove my courage. I didn't often return here until Black Thunder hatched, since it's far away to reach on foot. Once he had grown enough to fly with me, but before he was strong enough to carry me all the way to Ellesméra, we would fly here so he could gain strength and stamina flying with me on his back. He was small enough to fit in the water and enjoyed the heat. The winters here are cold, and it was the winter of almost ten years ago. The water is always hot, gaining its heat from deep within the earth. In summer, it might be too hot to comfortably swim, but now it will feel nice and keep you warm."

"How wonderful," Willow breathed. "How long can we stay in? It is quite hot."

"Maybe not much more than half an hour," Varhog said. "In a few more months, it wouldn't be safe for you with the baby, since it will cause your body temperature to rise."

"Must we leave right after we get out? I'd like to stay for a time," Willow requested.

"We can stay. We'll dry our bodies with magic and stay warm in each other's arms. The air nearest the water is considerably warmer than the air farther away, so I think we'll be comfortable. Is there a blanket in Sunset's saddlebags?"

"Mm-hmm," Willow murmured, already thinking of other things. "We have little time to waste to explore this new possibility, sweetheart. Shall we begin? You do get to start this time."

Varhog smiled and kissed her, which set off the chain of events they had come to expect. Within half an hour they were so hot from the demands of their exertion, combined with the heat of the water, that their faces were drenched with sweat and they both wanted to get out. They lay side by side on their backs, savoring the coolness of the night and not even bothering to dry off, since the wetness of their skin helped lower their excessively high body temperatures. They had both air dried before they felt any sensation of uncomfortable cool, and then Willow simply moved over to snuggle next to Varhog.

"This must be close to the time it was last night when we arrived at our hut," Willow observed. "The feasting, festivities, and contests took many hours. So I suppose this concludes our first twenty-four hours together as a married couple, Varhog. What is your assessment?"

Varhog looked at her with amusement in his eyes and said, "My assessment. . . . My assessment is that this has been the most unexpectedly and incredibly amazing time I have ever spent, or even hoped to spend, with another person. I know it won't always be like it has been this day, when the little ones come and with the various other activities that take our time on the Isle, but I'm looking forward to our very long lives together more than I can even begin to say. I love you, Willow. Thank you for being mine."

Willow smiled. "That was a tender assessment. I agree, Varhog. This has been amazing. Thank you for asking me to be yours. Now we can continue as friends and add the many pleasures of being lovers to all the former enjoyments." She ended as her vision began to go blurry and her head filled with a dull ache. Willow closed her eyes, lifting one hand to her temple and rubbing gently. Her face unconsciously assumed a pained expression.

"Are you well, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked in concern.

Willow was shocked when the sound of his voice grated on her nerves, intensifying the growing pain in her head. She snapped her eyes open and felt an overpowering urge to get away from Varhog, so she abruptly sat and moved away.

Her rapid change in manner clearly alarmed Varhog. "What's wrong, Willow?" he worried, also sitting and placing a hand on her shoulder. Willow flinched at his touch, and he removed it at her reaction. She turned with apology in her eyes in time to notice the confused, hurt look on his face. He quickly erased it, replacing it once again with the sincere concern she had heard in his voice.

"I don't know," Willow whispered. "A moment ago my eyes went blurry and my head began to hurt. When you spoke to me, it aggravated the pain so much, I felt a desperate impulse to move away from you. When you touched my shoulder, your hand felt like a branding iron. What's going on?" she anxiously asked, tears filling her eyes.

Willow could see his reluctance to speak, since she had just confessed that it caused her pain. "I don't know," he whispered as quietly as he could.

Willow shuddered involuntarily at the sound of his voice, looking at him in dismay as her hands jerked spasmodically. She didn't understand what was happening or why she was suddenly reacting to Varhog in such a way. His voice—his deep, soothing, beautiful voice that she had always loved from the moment she first heard it—was now a source of physical pain. The tears spilled down her cheeks.

Willow didn't want this to be happening so she tried to fight it by reaching a trembling hand toward Varhog and placing it on his arm. But she gasped at the contact, instantly jerking it back. It was like she had placed her hand into a bed of red-hot coals. Shaking her hand as if to cool it, she demanded, "Do you feel any differently?"

Varhog shook his head but refused to speak again, which only added to her distress. His eyes were almost wild in their worry, but Willow could see that he felt trapped. He couldn't touch her without causing her pain, couldn't speak without causing her pain. "I don't know how to help you," he uttered in an undertone.

"Ahh!" Willow cried, clapping her hands over her ears and springing up to distance herself even more. Once the uncontrollable reaction was over, she cried, "I'm so sorry, Varhog! I have no idea what's happening! I long for you to take me in your arms, to hear your voice, which I've always loved. But in the same moment, my instincts demand I get away from you like you're some sort of poison to me." She gasped at her confession. Sharing it was as painful as plunging a knife into her gut, and she doubled over as if she had.

Varhog's face was tortured. He got up to leave, no doubt wanting to see if his absence would provide her some relief.

Willow fell to her knees, her tears raining down to the earth. "No," she whispered, wishing she meant it, hating that she didn't. She wanted Varhog to leave. He only went to stand by Sunset, not so far he couldn't see her. Willow felt that Sunset's concern was equally as powerful as Varhog's. Her dragon had witnessed everything that had just transpired and could feel the tormented conflict inside of Willow's mind.

Willow remained hunched over on her knees, protectively hugging her arms around her waist and resting her forehead on the dirt. Her tears continued to flow, and before long she began to shiver. Without Varhog next to her, the cold night air quickly took its toll.

She felt Sunset say to Varhog, She is cold, Varhog.

Sunset acted as a mediator of sorts, and Willow could feel the conflict inside Varhog through her dragon's mind. His instinct was to come over and wrap her in his arms, and he moved as if to do that then stopped, warring with himself before finally deciding to retrieve the blanket from Sunset's saddlebags.

I don't want to take this to her, Willow heard him say to Sunset, feeling dismayed that his mental voice created more pain. I mean I do, Varhog continued, but I don't want to cause her pain. But I also don't want to throw it at her. That seems insensitive. Will you take it to her?

Varhog must have given the blanket to Sunset, for a moment later, her dragon moved forward and lowered her jaw with the blanket in it. Willow sat up and accepted it gratefully, shaking it out and wrapping it around her shoulders. Sunset partially blocked Varhog from her view, but Willow could see his face and how anguished it looked.

He is dying inside, sunshine, Sunset said to her. He is desperate to help you but terrified of hurting you.

I know! Willow despaired. I feel the same way! Please stay with me, Sunset! I want it to be him, but thinking about him being near me right now makes me feel sick. What's happening! I love him so much, but it's like my body hates him right now. Will you tell him something for me? I could sense your communication just now, but even his mental voice hurts me.

Of course, Sunset compassionately said, and Willow felt her gratitude that she could do something for her Rider. Sunset lowered her nose so her long face was parallel to Willow, and Willow wrapped her arms around Sunset's snout, grateful for the warmth and companionship she couldn't receive from her husband. The thought filled her with a fresh wave of agony.

Tell him I'm so sorry. And that I love him so much and long for him to be by me. I don't know what's happening, Sunset. I'm so frightened.

Sunset conveyed the message to Varhog, and Willow watched his face, feeling even more miserable as tears filled his eyes and trailed down his cheeks. It was only the second time she had ever seen Varhog cry, and he looked so helpless.

After a moment, Sunset's voice filled Willow's mind again. Varhog wanted me to return a message, she sadly shared. He also said he loves you and wishes he could help you somehow. He is sorry his presence is causing you pain. He asked if you want him to leave.

No! Willow cried. This can't last forever, can it? I need to be able to see him. Tell him that.

Sunset did and after a moment, she reached her neck out so she could grab Varhog's clothes with her fangs. She gave them to him. Willow watched him dress then sit, pulling his knees up so he could rest his arms on them with his hands clasped in front. It was such a casual position, Willow would have thought him relaxed and content were it not for the haunted look on his face. He kept his eyes on hers, never looking away, and the tears continued to stream down his face. His look of desperation and helplessness broke her heart.

Willow knelt with the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders and Sunset's wing over her body, but she shivered nonetheless, feeling so alone without Varhog by her side. She stared back at him, trying to communicate how sorry she was and how much she loved him, while her tears also continued.

After what felt like an eternity, though it must have only been about two hours, something inexplicably shifted in Willow, as if the energy that had created the intense revulsion toward Varhog had moved on. She felt it lift like fog under the warmth of the sun and gasped, stumbling to her feet and moving stiffly toward Varhog. Her legs ached from having knelt unmoving for so long.

Willow fell down in front of him, and he instinctively reached out to steady her. Then he drew his hands back, obviously still fearful he would hurt her. But Willow crawled between his knees and into his arms, her body rejoicing to be reunited with him. She covered his face with kisses—not yet on his mouth, but everywhere else—then wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her tears were now of relief, and her body started trembling as the shock of being forced to stay away from him affected her.

The undeniable reassurance of Willow's kisses and the way she longingly pressed her body against him must have removed Varhog's anxiety that he would still hurt her, for he soon reciprocated her tight embrace, forcing the air out of her lungs.

They did not speak for a long time. Their misery had been silent and so was their joy. Her body at last stopped its terrifying trembling, and Willow was still in his arms, breathing deeply to fill herself with his smell. She felt Varhog doing the same thing with his nose in her hair. He must have noticed that it was still slightly damp, as it had not fully dried in the cold, moist air, which was one of the reasons she had been so cold. Her body had shivered uncontrollably as she knelt, otherwise still as a statue. Varhog quietly murmured the words that would dry her hair, wicking the moisture away from her back so it would fall to the ground.

"Thank you," Willow breathed, adding, "That was awful. The worst thing I can imagine. May we never have to endure it again." She shuddered and looked at him, taking his face in her hands and willing him to understand the sincerity of her next words. "I'm so sorry, Varhog. So sorry. I couldn't control my feelings at all, and they were in complete opposition to how I really feel, which is that I love you more than anything else in this world. Do you believe me?" Varhog nodded solemnly.

Willow continued, "I once told you I might share my secret of why I love it when you laugh so much, and now I will. Varhog, your voice is the single most beautiful sound I have ever heard. When I first met you, my father had just died and the pain of my loss was still so fresh and raw. I was devastated by his death, more so than I was by my mother's or brother's, which is saying something. They were each so awful, but my father's was the worst because he was the last and I was alone. If it hadn't been for Sunset, I think I would have killed myself, so complete was my anguish and emptiness. Then I met you. I'm not trying to imply that I loved you right away, but I loved your voice. Do you know why?" Varhog shook his head.

Willow explained, "It sounds like my father's. My father was a tall, strong man in his prime. He shriveled and weakened under the despair of losing his wife and his son, but his voice always remained the same, and it was the most beautiful, deep, reassuring, strong voice I'd ever heard, far more so than most human men. He would sing to me in that marvelous voice, and it seemed to take away all the hurt and grief of missing my mother. He would sing to my baby brother before he died, and it would calm and comfort him like nothing else. It was my one constant. His last words to me were, 'I love you, Willow. Be strong. You have Sunset to take care of you now. I go on to be with your mother and William.' That was my brother. Then he was gone, but those words have always remained burned in my mind, the tone of his voice always as clear as if he just whispered them to me." She paused and drew in a shuddering breath.

Then Willow began once more. "Do you remember the first words you ever said to me?" Varhog shook his head again. "They were, 'No. It's like hair. It continues to grow slowly but has no sensation.' Odd that I remember such an insignificant comment, don't you think? But not odd when you know it will be forever burned in my mind, like my father's last words, because you have his voice, Varhog. Exactly his voice. I don't know if I betrayed my wonder at the sound then, but I immediately longed to be with you whenever I could so I would hear it as often as possible. It filled the empty desolation in my soul with the most beautiful warmth. And I always tried to make you laugh so I would hear his laugh." She pressed her face to his cheek. "I love your voice, Varhog. I don't think there will ever be another sound more beloved to my ears than your voice, not even the first laugh of our baby. And I could never hear enough of it, not even if you talked as endlessly as I sometimes do." She smiled, and a small one played at the corners of Varhog's mouth.

Willow had never shared this with him, and she could see that Varhog found it deeply touching. He had unknowingly filled the void in her soul in a most personal way after losing her father, in the same way she knew Black Thunder had for Varhog after his sire's death. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Willow," he whispered. She trembled, smiling blissfully as his voice washed over her again for the first time since it had so shockingly hurt her ears.

But Willow wasn't quite finished. "And your touch. . . . Varhog, your touch is the most sublime sensation I have ever had the privilege of experiencing. Your every touch. Your strong hands, which can be so powerful in one moment and so tender in the next. The feel of your rough hide. The warmth of your lips, no matter where they touch me. The strength of your muscles. I could never get enough of your touch, which is why it was so appalling to me that I reacted as I did. Please," she begged, "never doubt the sincerity of my words right now, no matter what happens. Heaven forbid we ever have to experience something of that nature again. But if so, remember what I'm telling you right now. I love you so much. Your voice, your body, and your mind. Everything you are. Do you know that?"

"Yes, Eartheyes. And I'll never doubt it, no matter what happens."

"Thank you, Varhog." Willow stared at him a moment longer before finally allowing herself to kiss his mouth, confirming with her actions the honesty of her words. Coming together was as a blessed balm for their wounded souls, and Varhog surrounded her with his voice and touch—two things she had declared so completely beloved—as he filled her with his body. She blossomed in response, and some of the shining light that had been snuffed out in the moment of her revulsion returned to her. Willow remained curled as closely to him as she could when their bodies stopped moving, never attempting to change positions for the rest of the night.

A/N: The following chapter contains some mature intimacy, similar to what the previous few have.