Moments of privacy are few and far in between.
Her hair is wet, the cool night air making her shiver as water evaporates from her skin, and she reaches back, twisting it around her fingers. "Are you cold?"
His hair is wet too.
"I am fine."
But he's not.
The seclusion of the spring is behind them, tension that did not exist in those quiet, intimate moments creeping back in. She sees it in the line of his arm as he pushes aside the noren, letting her enter the warmth of the hut.
"Are you coming?" she whispers, looking back.
