The miko smiled at him.
It seemed to come more often now, though perhaps he was just noticing it more. Ever since the last hunt with the kit, Sesshoumaru had become more aware of how often his gaze lingered on her form.
And how often the kit shot him a knowing look after.
These were the thoughts that plagued him as he returned to camp, having completed patrol for the night.
The kit waved, along with Rin, both glancing up from the scroll they were painting.
A wayward breeze blew through the camp, rustling leaves and flames, the scent of jasmine teasing his senses as their gazes met.
The miko smiled at him.
