Twice now in less than 24 hours Nathaniel had woken up with Solona right against him. The top of her head rested just under his chin, the intoxicating scent of her filling his senses. Her presence was an oasis of calm in an increasing assault of sensations; a soft balm blunting the the sharp stabs of pain. His injured arm throbbed heavily, each pulse of his heart resonating with the impact of a hammer. And then the cold. Sandwiched between the warmth of her body and his useless limb, shivers crawled over him like icy fingers.

Finally, the dizziness. Cold air inflated his head, spinning him away from both his body and the earth.

His first conscious breath was a groan.

Solona moved and his weight shifted with her, throwing his body into the instinctive effort to catch itself. The jolt tore into his wounded arm, stunning him with a new wave of stinging pain. Everything about his hand felt wrong.

The night forest circled him even faster.

"Nathaniel?"

He grumbled something in response. Any moment now the ground should be coming up to meet him. He welcomed it. It was nice being against her again, but sleep wanted him back.

Soft hands fluttered against his chest. For all their tenderness, they somehow possessed the strength to stay between him in the beckoning earth. He heard his name again and her breath close to his ear. It prickled the hairs on his neck.

He'd dreamed of her in his unconsciousness. He'd been dreaming of her the entire day. He never meant to let himself fall asleep in her bed after bringing her down from the watchtower. He'd fully intended to sneak away as soon as she was quiet again, to go back to his own room like a gentleman. But her embrace had been irresistible, and before he knew it the sky outside the window had changed from black to a deep blue. A bird singing confusedly somewhere out in the Keep alerted him to the hour, one of the last stragglers who'd yet to escape to the warmer northern climes before the winter crept in. He scrambled out of there as quickly as he was able to, suddenly fully awake, his chest pounding.

Tiny whispers of memory had come back to him throughout the day as he watched her walk, leading their small group down the muddy pathways. Moments when sleep was shallow and she shifted closer, tangling her legs between his, her fingertips slipping down his back and fitting themselves into the notches of his spine. He'd not thought of anything else for the entire day's journey.

In the black moments against the tree, when pain filled every strand of his physical being, his mind had gone back to her bed. To her sleepy breath. To the incoherent words she'd mumbled in her sleep. And to the coherent ones.

"Please wake up, Nathaniel. We have to get you to Anders."

He was helpless against the plea in her voice. Had he ever heard her sound so worried? Opening his eyes, he tried to force the shadows before him to stay in place. He gritted his teeth and stretched his back. The fact that his torso was bare and exposed to the cold immediately became apparent. So did her proximity.

The moon behind her lit up her hair in a halo of silver flyaways, tracing her figure in pale light. Nathaniel pushed himself upright and reached toward her with his good arm. He connected with bare skin, covered in goosebumps and quivering violently. It felt so natural to pull her back toward him, and she came forward willingly.

It wasn't until she was against him again, his arm draped around her back, that he realized he wasn't still dreaming. This was reality. For a second he went stiff, expecting that she'd push herself away. Or push him away. Maybe even worse. He'd already been on the receiving end of her rage once that day.

Instead, she only sighed and folded herself against his chest. She had been there already, anyhow. He tightened his hold and tried to rub warmth into her back, or at least help lessen her shivering. His head fell onto hers and rested for a moment. The pain in his arm ebbed out of the picture. He was holding her, while she was awake, and she was letting him. It all seemed entirely too easy.

But it didn't last. She pulled her head out from under his and peered up into his face, her features lost to the shadow.

"How do you feel? You need to walk, Nathaniel. If we move we'll warm up a little," she said.

Slowly, Nathaniel nodded. He tried to look past her. The bodies of the wolves littered the shoreline. The smoky scent of a recently extinguished fire hung in the air. He nodded again. It was all so surreal.

A rush of cold hit him as Solona pulled further away and climbed up to a stand. The moon emblazoned the perfect outline of a woman onto the darkness. He watched, entranced, as the outline bent down toward him, her movement stirring up the frigid air. He felt her hand again, cautious and exploring, searching for a place to hold onto him. He pulled his throbbing arm into his lap. Every movement set his nerves on fire. He went stiff as he hissed, waiting for the sting to subside. Solona waited too.

He let her guide him. One foot up, and then the other, his weight pushing toward the sky until finally he was upright, but uneasily so. Solona fit herself under his arm. Her fingers grazed around his waist and then settled into a solid grip above his hip.

"I need my things," he croaked.

The night had begun to spin again. Part of him wanted to go back to his dream. Part of him was starkly aware that the woman he'd been dreaming of stood right there.

"Right," she sighed. She was still for a long moment, her body bracing his. He took a few deep breaths and tried to urge the lightheadedness to subside.

"Can you stand by yourself?" Even as she asked she pulled away, testing his balance. He squared his stance and steeled his back. As he focused he could feel a little of his strength returning.

"Yes, I think so," he said.

He watched her compact little form flit around the shoreline as she collected what must have been his things. She found his bow and his quiver, draped what looked to be additional pieces of his leathers over his arms, and finally, the catch from his hunt. He'd already tied the hind feet of the four rabbits together and fashioned his typical loop to secure them to the back of his belt. When she was done, she stopped before him.

"I guess you'll need help putting these back on," she said. Her tone held the distinct sharpness of annoyance. It shattered the last of the dreamlike pall.

Nathaniel almost laughed. How quickly the spell could be broken.

"Don't inconvenience yourself on my account," he said without thinking.

Her silhouette tensed. He felt her eyes even though he couldn't see them.

She sighed. Her shoulders drooped slightly. Nathaniel immediately regretted the snark.

"Of course you'll need help," she said, her tone soft again. "You lost a lot of blood. Your hand is… well, it can barely be called a hand at this point. That was horrible, what happened. Absolutely horrible. I'm sorry. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have…" She shook her head tiredly. "Anyway, I'm sorry."

He blinked at her figure in the darkness. Two apologies from her in less than 24 hours. Two different occasions he'd been allowed to hold her. This would be a day for the record books.

"Your fault? I did not realize that you were responsible for the wolves living in the forest," Nathaniel said.

"You know what I mean," she answered.

"Do I?"

"If I hadn't been here, you would have heard them before they got close, like you always do."

"Right… like I always do when you're also there with me. Your presence hasn't interfered before."

"But…" her figure went still. Nathaniel could feel her tensing up. He wasn't sure why he wasn't just accepting her apology. Clearly she felt the need to give one.

"But, I guess on a normal night you wouldn't have risen from a lake in just your skivvies, like some kind of… mythical nymph of the deep…" There was a sharpness to his words that he didn't intend.

She snorted, and somehow the sound was unexpectedly sad. Her energy was a distinctive, palpable thing in the dark. He could sense it withdrawing from him, closing itself off. If her wall had been down, it back was back up now. Nathaniel clamped his mouth shut. He waited for her to lash back out at him, to call him out for mocking her. He'd deserve it.

But the words had been correct, despite his tone. She had seemed like a sort of mythical enchantress. He'd been thinking of her then, just as he had been all day. When he'd felt the approaching Warden energy he'd desperately hoped it'd be her. And there she'd been, a manifestation of his wishes, a dream come to life. But of course that's not how he made it sound.

Her silence made him ache. He bit his tongue. His stupid, snarky tongue.

He'd never had this problem of saying the wrong things so often before. Usually his words were carefully selected and delivered. It was a matter of pride. But he'd also never had a woman make him feel so much before.

She shuffled through the items in her hands, setting aside his bow and the rabbits, and exploring the pieces of his leathers by feel. Turning, she fired off a small ball of fire at the pile of sticks she'd gathered earlier. The flare of light revealed her standing much closer than he expected. He took in as much of her as he could before the light died; the hair follicles standing on end all over her body, the sharp points of her contracted nipples through the flimsy breast band, the stiff way she held herself as she tried to control the shivering. He took a step toward her, longing to wrap his arms — or arm, at least — around her again. It was painful to see her looking so cold. Before the light died her dark eyes flashed warily up at him. It stopped him in his tracks, confirming that his words had soured her mood. But there wasn't anger there. It would have been easier if there was.

"I can hardly tell what I'm looking at with these," she said quietly as she continued to fumble with straps and chest pieces. The sticks didn't hold the flame this time. She sent up another ball, straight into the air above them. The light lasted a little longer and faded more slowly as it dissipated somewhere over the treetops.

Nathaniel turned to scan the shore for more branches before the light was gone, but only felt his balance waver. He caught himself with a righting step just as her hands landed on his stomach.

"I'll get them," she insisted as she held him upright. "You don't have to do anything. Just stand there and save your strength. And, you know, don't die."

Before she could pull away, Nathaniel covered her hand with his. She froze.

He opened his mouth to speak but his words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say? He could apologize, but he'd already apologized earlier. So had she. Were they just going to stand out here and apologize back and forth to each other all night? Would an apology even help? He couldn't exactly say what he really wanted to.

I want to know you. I want to be close to you. Please be patient with me.

Or… maybe that was exactly what he should do?

The words were on the tip of his tongue. He could taste them, feel their shape ready to be formed and spoken.

But it wasn't that simple, was it? She wasn't just any woman. She was The Hero, and as Warden-Commander she was his superior. Not only might such a personal confession be overstepping, but she was clearly still grieving.

His memory replayed that name. Alistair. The way she'd said it. The way she'd clung to him. It was Alistair she thought she was holding all night. And then tonight, when he'd woken to her against him… that was merely about staying warm. It had to have been. Just sheer practicality, nothing more.

His heart clenched into a tight ball.

"Thank you," he offered instead. "I've no doubt the wolves would have found me anyway, and if you hadn't been here—"

"You would have had your bow. Your armor."

"Yes. But that might not have mattered." He squeezed her hand. The chill of her skin was quickly replaced by warmth as it rested below his ribs. Her finger twitched. He wished he could see her eyes. He probably shouldn't have touched her again, but it was strange how easily the impulse came, even though in every other way he felt… nervous. But he'd have to let her go of course. They had to make their way back.

The realization made his stomach lurch. When they made it back to camp, once Anders had done his thing and the rabbits were cooking, things would just return to normal. They'd no longer be alone together, there would be no reason left for them to touch, or even speak. Most nights at camp she stayed long enough after dinner to have a drink or two, then she always retired early, while Nathaniel remained at the fireside, tending to the flames throughout the night. He often hoped that she might have some reason to venture out during the late hours when it was only him awake, but she never did.

Despite the throbbing mass of pulp that was his arm, despite the cold, he felt no hurry to return to camp.

Solona slipped her hand out from under his and went back to looking for firewood. Nathaniel watched her move, aware that even though they hadn't even started back yet, their seconds together were ticking away.

"What did you mean before?" she asked him. "When you said I wasn't fooling anyone?"

Nathaniel searched his memory. That conversation couldn't have been more than an hour ago, but it felt like so much longer. He remembered her talking about killing his father. Trying to anger him. And apologizing for the ice.

"Um." He raised his good hand and squeezed at his brows. The conversation before the wolf attack was somehow both vividly clear and a confusing jumble. He'd just been saying things that time too, things that weren't untrue, but that he knew he'd regret later even as he continued to speak them. It just spilled out so easily. It occurred to him that it might have been a habit he was developing from constantly arguing with Anders. That damned mage thought he was so bloody witty. It felt good to put him in his place sometimes. A little too good. He needed to stop letting that bleed into his conversations with Solona.

He kept saying all the things he didn't want to, and none of the things that he did.

"My mind's a bit fuzzy on that conversation already," he muttered. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Uh huh," she murmured flatly. She continued walking the waterline. He heard her sigh.

"Well, I guess blood loss will do that. And trauma."

She bent over and picked up a stick, and then padded quietly over to another. As she passed behind the wolf bodies their immense size nearly obscured her. If he'd encountered them on his own, without any light to be sure of his aim, there was no way he could have taken them all down in time. It was lucky that she had been here, despite whatever she thought. Though he still didn't know why she would have swam out so far in the first place. Had she been looking for him?

"I was apologizing for freezing you," she continued.

He nodded. He remembered her challenging him. And flinching when he touched her. He'd given himself away then, hadn't he? So what did it matter now if he spoke more of his desires?

But coming on too strong was never a good thing. Such as touching her so often. At least not until she gave some indication it was welcome.

"And you said something about knowing my reasons. That everyone knew my reasons. Ring any bells?"

"The reason you froze me? You mean aside from the fact that I was, as you put it, stealing your kills? Same as I had in the Deep Roads."

Silence again. But she continued to move. She bent down and picked up another stick, but discarded it quickly.

"It's no secret you enjoy taking down the darkspawn, Solona," he answered. "That's all."

Her shadow came closer, dropping the collection of sticks at their feet. She knelt down and arranged them into a haphazard pile.

"Right," she mumbled so quiet he almost didn't hear her. "That's all."

"Look, sometimes, lately, my mouth has been… getting away from me. I'm not sure why. I'm sorry."

He shifted on his feet and immediately felt a wave of lightheadedness. This time Solona didn't seem to notice; she just stared down into the pile of sticks. He took a deep breath and centered himself enough to stop from toppling over.

"Lots of apologies tonight. Let's just chalk it up to a very strange day and call it even, yes?" he offered gently. "You're sorry for… whatever you're sorry for. Endangering my life, or so you think. And I'm sorry for…" he sighed. "Everything."

She started moving the sticks again, but it looked mindless.

"Everything? That's quite a broad statement." she said.

"Perhaps. You deserve a more complete enumeration of my offenses, no doubt, but I don't want to burden you with all that… talk."

For a moment he almost thought he heard something like a quiet laugh. He kept his eyes locked onto her dark form, searching her shadow for any confirmation. The possibility almost made him forget about the nagging pain at his arm.

"Yes, well you could just add it to the list, I suppose," she said. "You've already been downright chatty tonight anyhow. Hopefully that means you're feeling a little better."

"Better?" He shrugged. "I don't have two murderous beasts ripping open my flesh, so, yes, this is a decided improvement." In truth he felt like utter nugshit, but he was there with her. Alone. And now she was even talking. The pain and dizziness, as much as they threatened to knock him back on his ass at any moment, were just incidental. "If I am bothering you though, I will be quiet."

"I'm not bothered," she said.

She stood and in a swift move the scenery before him was bathed in a vibrant orange light. The wash of heat that followed it washed chased away the chill in his bones. He watched her, awed, as she manifested flames from the ether as though it was completely mundane. And to her, of course, it was. In all his life he'd never spent so much time in the company of a mage, or two, as it were. At times it still struck him how much of a miracle magic seemed to be.

These branches held the flames easily, and once the light was established she went back to the tangle of leathers, now able to pick out different pieces. It struck him that she would be touching him again, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

She removed the pouches and faced him, his belt in her hands, eying him with a look of trepidation.

"Well," she shrugged, looking at his waist. "I'll try to make this quick."

She closed the distance in two strides and before he was prepared, her hands were on him again, slipping the end of the belt into his loops, her chest rising and falling nervously only inches away. Nathaniel took a breath of her and tried not to stare too hard or look too entranced. He cleared his throat as she tugged, jerking his body slightly as she worked her way around his waist. Occasionally her knuckles grazed his bare skin, forcing him to stifle a reactive shudder. Every swallow, every sound he made reverberated in his ears at an unnatural volume. His empty stomach rumbled its need for food. His breath hitched as she came back around to face him and work the buckle below his navel. The blood in his body shifted, causing his vision to swoon precariously, the ground listing enough to send his head swimming.

She finished quickly and returned with the pouches. He begged his body not to respond too enthusiastically to her touch, as impossible a request as that was. There would be no way to hide an erection when she was constantly having to look down at his belt. It might even cause him to pass out again.

"So, for conversation's sake," she began, an apparent effort to break the awkwardness. "Humor me and enumerate some of these other so-called offenses covered by your apology."

Nathaniel let out an unexpected laugh. He felt like he could fall into the large, deep pools that were staring up at him, waiting for his answer. Taking a deep breath, he looked away, casting his eye up toward the points of light in the sky, around at the black figures of the swaying trees, trying not to let himself get overwhelmed with the experience of her.

"Well… my lady…" he began and almost immediately winced. "I guess I can start by apologizing for not using your formal title. Command—er, Warden-Commander. I've never served in the ranks of any organization before-"

She secured the final pouch, angling herself off to his side. It was a little easier than having her right under his face.

"Or had many people above you in any capacity, I'm guessing? You being a noble and all," she added. "Most of the people you grew up with were probably equals or of a lesser station. Servants… prisoners… employees?"

Nathaniel frowned. It didn't sound accusatory, but the implications weren't pleasant.

"I have always made an effort to be kind to the servants, and everyone else. Unless I'm given a reason not to be. And being born a noble is not something I asked for."

"A fair point." Solona shrugged. "Well, anyway, I don't really care if you call me Commander. Becoming the last Warden in Ferelden was not something I asked for."

She stepped away again, bending down to pick up another piece, turning it around and eying the buckles. A large scar stretching across her left shoulder, while smears of blood stained her waist and the backs of her thighs in places she'd yet to wash off. Nathaniel tried to keep his eyes off the two little dimples at the small of her back. He gritted his teeth and looked up into the sky.

"A little help, please?" she asked as she frowned at the mass of leather before her.

Nathaniel pointed at the next piece, a simple chest plate with straps that allowed the whole piece to slide over his head like a tunic. For the first time he considered how uncomfortable this would all be without his actual tunic beneath them. He hoped there wouldn't be much chafing, though it would be dull in comparison to his injuries. In the flickering light, he assessed his bandaged arm. The throbbing continued, and was coming in a quicker rhythm due to Solona's attention. His hand was completely covered by a layer of red-stained tunic that stretched over it, though it wasn't overly wet. Clearly he wasn't bleeding out anymore, even if there was still considerable damage beneath.

"You should probably elevate it," Solona said as she nodded to his arm. She was only inches away from him again, holding up the chest plate. He bent his elbow to hold his wrist up toward his shoulder.

"Also," he continued as she slipped straps over his head and helped to work it down. Her fingers pressed and fumbled as they worked to straighten the straps over his chest. The throbbing increased in speed again. He glanced at her face to see her studying the leathers with an intense focus. She was so very close, and he was losing his train of thought.

"I'm sorry for…." He gasped as both her hands slipped under his arms and around to his shoulder blades. Reaching the straps, she pulled, scraping down his back.

"…touching me…."

She pulled back and looked at him with a confused little frown, but didn't say anything.

"You, I mean. You. I'm sorry for... overstepping or," he paused again as she pulled away. She tugged at the front of the breastplate to center it. "For not having a way to keep you warm besides body heat…"

She stepped away and waited for direction on the next piece. Nathaniel pointed out the next one while biting his tongue. Conversation should have been a good idea, but he was fumbling it. Just stop talking, Nathaniel.

"You don't need to keep me warm. I knew what I was doing out in that lake. It's lucky for you that being an archer keeps you out of the way of all the blood and filth. I, on the other hand, desperately needed a bath. And now," she glanced down at the dried splatter on her belly, and red-stained thigh, "I already need another."

She finished up the strap and took a step back to look at it.

"You don't need to be up in the filth either, Solona."

"Yes," she answered firmly. "I do."

She turned her back and scanned the ground around them. There remained his bow and quiver to collect, and the night's catch. She picked up the rabbits and inspected the loop before walking it over to him and tying it to his belt in the place he usually put it himself, in the back but off to the side so that the bodies didn't bang against his thigh.

"Besides," she said quietly, "it was nice out there. Alone, under the stars."

"Yes, it is." He nodded. "That's why I was taking my time out here."

The fire had already dimmed considerably. His injured arm was growing even heavier than it already felt, so he let it fall. The movement stung much more than he was expecting, and he felt the world lurch as a wave of pain slammed into him.

When the spinning slowed, he felt her hands again. Warm and firm, one reaching around to lay flat against his back, the other cupping his rib cage. Her face was only a breath away. One small move and he could kiss her.

And then he'd probably be frozen into a casket of ice from which he'd never emerge. He hoped she couldn't feel how quickly his heart was racing, nor the river of hot blood that was rushing down into the lower half of his body. Those dark eyes of hers stayed fixed on him, bottomless pools of mystery.

"Why did you touch my cheek before?" she asked quietly. And then she stepped away. Nathaniel stayed upright, the pain in his arm still persistent, but fading out of focus.

"Because," he began. A million answers stuttered forth, but there was only room for one. "Because you're so… beautiful."

She snorted and dropped her gaze as she leaned down to grab the strap that would secure his bow and quiver.

"Beautiful," she repeated derisively. "Well I'm not sure that's accurate."

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Even if it was," she continued, "that's probably a compliment best delivered to my parents, if they still live. The configuration of my physical features is not something I can take credit for, is it?"

She walked over and threw the strap over his head. She inspected his face, ran her eyes down his neck and his chest.

"Neither can you," she said pointedly. Nathaniel tilted his head, unsure how to respond. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Neither can I," he repeated, even if only to encourage her to continue.

"No," she said. She stepped away again and ran her eyes over him again. The heat returned to his cheeks. "I might not have given it much notice before, but you, Nathaniel Howe, are a very attractive man."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "But so what? You're not attractive because you're good, or smart or as a reflection of your character. You simply got lucky in how your parent's features combined, and here you are. And it doesn't matter. Because what you look like isn't you, just like what I look like isn't me. Our bodies are merely vessels. Puppets of meat that we control for a while. Someday your spirit will leave yours. And someday — soon, hopefully — I will leave mine and our cells will rot, and the essence of what we really are will… go somewhere else. The side of the Maker or whatever, right? Isn't that what the Chantry teaches? "

She sighed and turned around, surveying the shoreline. She picked up the quiver and bow and secured them to his back.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "I… guess so."

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to say all the other things he'd been dying to say. She had a point of course, but it wasn't just that she was pretty. He just… felt something he couldn't explain.

She turned again and began walking the shoreline, looking around the dirt, presumably for anything she might have missed.

Her face had hounded him after she let him collect his family's things and leave the Keep. He'd walked to Amaranthine with her on his mind the whole time, though he couldn't fathom why. He was still reeling from the fact that she hadn't executed him, and thought perhaps that must have been it. She was no longer just the woman who'd murdered his father, but was also the woman who'd given him his life back after he was sure it was over.

It came as such as a surprise that she was both this legend, but also just this small, normal looking woman. When he'd intercepted her and the others traveling to Amaranthine, he felt it again. There was no rhyme or reason to it.

A married friend of his in the Marches had once said that when he'd first met his wife he "just knew." Nathaniel had laughed it off at the time. But since meeting Solona, he was feeling more and more like he understood.

"Solona…" he began.

"What, Nathaniel?"

"I guess we can add to the list that I'm sorry I touched your cheek."

To that, she laughed. A real laugh, the first he'd heard from her yet. But her back was turned again. If she was smiling, finally, truly smiling, he couldn't see it.

Somewhere, moving quickly, came that familiar tickle in his mind, the same as the sensation of Solona, but dimmer. Solona turned in its direction and tilted her head. They source moved much more quickly and less erratically than darkspawn. It immediately changed tack, moving directly toward them. She looked to Nathaniel.

"I guess the others have found us?"

Disappointment bloomed in the pit of Nathaniel's stomach. His injured arm continued to throb, the pain spreading sickly tendrils up into his shoulder. Suddenly his whole body felt heavy, and not worth the effort to move.

Here it was. The end of their time had come.

At least they'd connected a little. She'd said more to him than she'd ever said before. He closed his eyes and soaked in the memory of her touch, trying to block out the awareness of the approaching figures who were coming to kill this waking dream.

But she was still there. They still had a few precious seconds. He opened his eyes and looked at her again, the vision of her so perfect that it almost physically hurt. She had her arms crossed over her chest and rubbed them furiously. Her knees were shaking. She looked back at him , her eyes lit up with anticipation and relief. She at least would not be tasked with dragging him back through the forest by herself.

As unpleasant as that would have been in so many ways, how many more opportunities might there have been to put his arms around her? To share each other's heat, and strength?

But what if that would not have been something she wanted?

He kept his eyes locked onto her as they waited, savoring every second that remained. If it was up to him, she would be the only thing in his vision until the light was gone. Anders called out their names and Solona responded. The rustle of leaves and branches grew louder as Oghren and Anders crashed through them. A breeze came off the lake and whipped up her hair, which had dried in a wavy disarray around her pale face. She stepped closer to the little fire and held her hands over it. The breeze intensified her shaking, and Nathaniel's body surged with the desire to go to her, to warm her.

He was about to take a step toward her when Anders burst through the trees, his head turning directly toward Solona. Shortly after, Oghren emerged, his battleaxe poised and ready. He stopped and stared around at the wolf bodies, then hooked his axe on his back.

"By the bloody stone…" he said.

"We saw a fireball over the trees," explained Anders. "Was that to signal us?"

Solona's eyes flicked to Nathaniel. He couldn't let himself look away, even now that the spotlight of her attention had turned to him; it felt like the moment he did was when it would all really be over. She stared back, unblinking. He realized his longing was probably plainly visible. Every secret, twisted thing in his heart might have been visible to her in that moment.

And then Anders stepped between them. He wrapped Solona up in robe and swept her up into his arms.

"I figured you'd want this. I brought you boots too, but they're over here," explained Anders. He wore a satisfied smirk Nathaniel instantly itched to destroy.

"Wait, Nathaniel's injured," Solona said as Anders began walking her back toward the treeline. Nathaniel caught a flash of her face as Anders turned again, lit up with firelight and gazing up at Anders with gratitude. Nathaniel's stomach sank even further.

Anders flicked his hand out, sending a blast of healing toward Nathaniel almost as an afterthought.

When the pain in his arm finally ebbed away, Nathaniel didn't notice or care.