Daine could feel the splinter lodge itself in the pad of her thumb as she let the bolt slide. Her bow string vibrated, and the sound reverberated in her ears before being overtaken by the sound of the hurrock's screech as it fell from the sky. She shoved her thumb in her mouth, sucking away the blood, and spitting it out on the spring frosted ground. She swerved to take aim at the spidren climbing the cliff ledge behind her. Her face burned as the bow string loosed, sliding across her skin. The spidren fell, its many legs tangling as it toppled down the cliff face. She could hear Numair screaming her name, but then everything was muffled as a body fell on top of her. She reached for her dagger. She tried desperately to pull it from its resting place in the small of her back before she was crushed under the weight of the mass of immortal.
She fell backwards, body meeting cold earth. Her hand spasmed as her fingers grasped the hilt. The edges of her vision turned black as the weight against her chest made it hard to breath. She lost her grip. And then it was over. The weight was lifted, and Numair's face swam into her vision. His magic shimmered in the air around them, causing the edges of her vision to turn hazy. She sat up, then staggered to her feet, Numair desperately trying to steady her.
"Are you hurt?" Numair's hands grasped her shoulders, then threaded through her hair, finally resting his palms against her face. "Daine, sweet..." He shook her slightly.
"I'm fine Numair..." she felt his hand grasp her wrist. His eyes searching her hand.
"You were bleeding... before it even fell on you, you were bleeding!" His voice was panicked. She rolled her eyes.
"It's just a. splinter Numair." He pulled her into his arms, tight against his chest.
"I thought..." he choked back a sob.
"You think too much," Daine said, not loosening her grip on his waist, and instead sliding her thumbs into the belt loops of his breeches.
"Daine..." Numair's voice was full of warning, even as his own hands gripped the back of her tunic, dragging her closer. She could feel each puff of his warm breath across her scalp. She slid her hand up, taking a fistful of his tunic.
"You do think too much 'Miar..." she murmured, rubbing her cheek into the V of his tunic. "Sometimes I think I am drowning in your thoughts." Her voice was barely audible, muffled against the fabric. She felt his fingers, tangled in the back of her over-shirt, tighten. His lips brushed the top of her head.
"Sometimes I think I'll drown in my thoughts of you magelet."
