It's been a bit of a dry spell in Libri-world recently, and I want to thank Isabeau of Greenlea for providing inspiration for this bit in her latest chapter of "Corin". If you haven't read it, definitely head over and look it up!

Morning in camp. Thora awoke alone in the pile of blankets, and she rolled over, burying her face in Alistair's pillow and breathing in his particular scent. Outside the tent, the birds were singing, Leliana and Wynne were chatting by the fire while something bubbled faintly, probably porridge. With an effort, Thora let go of the warmth of the blankets and arose.

She exchanged good morning greetings with the others and went searching for the nearest stream to wash her face. Coming back, she finally found Alistair, practicing his forms alone in a clearing, and she stopped to watch. He was shirtless, and sweat was gleaming in the morning sun across all the sharply defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. He stepped sharply forward, and turned quickly, blocking an invisible opponent with his shield. His broad back was to her now, the thin linen pants he wore flexing with the powerful muscles of his legs.

Thora licked her lips unconsciously, watching the hypnotically graceful display in front of her, Alistair's motions clean and sharp, his eyes narrowed in concentration, his body perfectly coordinated. An ache began between her legs and she couldn't help thinking about going to him and running her hands over the firm skin of his back, licking up the rivulets of sweat with her tongue—

"There you are," Leliana said from behind her. "Hungry?"

"Oh, yes," Thora said without thinking, and then blushed at her own tone.

Leliana giggled. "So I see. He is very ... athletic, isn't he?"

The moment was broken. Thora turned away from the practice field. "Let's get breakfast."

The bandits were better armed than usual, the fighting sharp and vicious. Thora found herself facing the bandit leader, a big man with a broadaxe who had clearly not learned his fighting in the mannered and ruled forum of the Provings. He distracted her with a blow of the broadaxe, which she blocked, and then he kicked her hard in the knee.

Thora fell, white-hot pain shooting through her body, and put an arm up to block the blow she was sure was incoming, but it never landed. Instead Alistair's tall figure in silverite stepped between her and the axe, catching the blow on his shield and countering with a mighty blow of his sword.

Wynne caught Thora by the shoulders, pulling her backward out of the way of the fighting. She laid her hands on the injured knee, the warmth of the healing surrounding the joint and taking the pain away. As the pain haze cleared, Thora looked around at the battle. Her team was prevailing, Morrigan and Leliana ganging up on the last bandit. He had looked excited for a moment, seeing two such beautiful women approaching him, but quickly realized what a deadly combination they were, Morrigan's magic and Leliana's blades confusing him and breaking through his defenses before he knew what they were doing.

Alistair was still facing down the bandit leader. He deflected a blow from the broadaxe with his shield and swung his sword while the bandit had his defenses down. The bandit spun away, and Alistair followed him, moving easily in his armor. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Thora, a smile flashing across his face when he saw she was being cared for, and then turned back to the combat. The bandit leader turned the broadaxe, aiming a blow with the pommel at Alistair's head. Adroitly Alistair dodged the blow. Thora could almost see the muscles in his long legs flexing as he moved back and forth, surprisingly light on his feet for such a big man.

Clearly the stronger and better trained fighter, Alistair appeared to be enjoying himself as he beat the bandit chief back with massive blows of sword and shield. The broadaxe was moving more slowly now, and at last Alistair landed a mighty blow that dropped the bandit chief like a log. Removing his helm, Alistair ran a hand through his sweat-darkened hair, the light catching his profile and outlining it sharply.

"Usually," Morrigan remarked from where she stood next to Thora, "I find your fondness for that oaf quite inexplicable. However, I must admit that he is most ... picturesque when he fights."

"Picturesque?" Leliana said. "I do not know that I would use quite that word. You cannot touch a picture, after all." She cast a sideways glance at Thora. "Someone's a lucky girl."

"Ladies," Wynne put in sharply, "I believe we all have looting to do, and we should keep moving before the bodies are discovered."

They were all hastily rifling through pockets by the time Alistair moved over toward them. He frowned down at them for a moment as Thora flushed and looked more intently into the knapsack she had in her hands. "What?" he asked. "What did I miss?"

They made camp that night near a pretty brook that went rushing merrily by as though there had never been a Blight. The music of the water joined with the sounds of camp, creating a soothing backdrop. Thora didn't love running water, not the way Morrigan did, didn't enjoy immersing herself in it the way Alistair and Leliana did, but she liked to look at it. After Wynne admonished her to stop helping set up camp to protect the injured knee, Thora wandered to the edge of the brook, listening to the ringing of Alistair's axe as he chopped wood to keep the fire going all night.

She moved toward the sound. He had his shirt off, and was surrounded by a pile of firewood, humming a little tune under his breath as the axe rose and fell, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. His skin was bronzed from the sun and gleaming.

The low throb of desire that had begun this morning sped up. Thora's breasts felt heavy, her legs weak, as she watched Alistair's large body move before her. She made a small sound, a low whimper of lust that traveled across the clearing, and Alistair looked over his shoulder at it.

"Oh, there you are. How are you feeling?"

Thora tried to speak, but nothing came from her suddenly dry mouth. She cleared her throat. "Tent. Now."

Alistair's eyes widened in concern. "That bad?" And then the expression on her face must have conveyed her meaning, because he flushed under his tan, his ears turning red. "What, now? I mean, um ... what will the others think? It's ... it's still daylight!"

"Do I look like I care?" She walked across the clearing toward him and did what she had been thinking of all day; she put her tongue out and licked a drop of sweat off his muscular abdomen and was rewarded by a sharp hiss as he drew his breath in. Licking her lips, Thora looked up at him. "Tent, then?"

"Tent. Absolutely."