Miroku retires for the night, but she stays out by the fire.

It's colder than is comfortable, but the flames are mesmerizing, and there is peace in the stillness of the clear night. So, Kagome sits with her arms wrapped around herself, and she allows her thoughts to drift to the one who has invaded her heart as much as her mind.

When a familiar pulse of youki suddenly washes over her, it doesn't surprise her. Eyes closing, a smile lights her lips as the air around her shivers with the rustle of silk.

It's not raining, but he's come.