Anara slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. Her whole body was shaking. Outside, the birds sang, insects chirped to each other and the day went on as normal. Inside, death was hiding in the form of a man in her bedroom. She had saved his life, when he had wanted to die. Would he seek some revenge on her? She couldn't say she wouldn't do the same in his position.

Once the shaking stopped, she got up from the floor and busied herself with tidying up in the kitchen. Grabbing a bucket, she went out to the barn to do some chores. She found herself absently talking to Violet and stroking her when she heard a rider in the yard. The sun was high in the sky as she walked out of the door. Her eyes fell upon the rider, and the rider was Dayfid.

"How's the cow, Anara?" he asked, dismounting from his horse.

"She's fine, thank you." She tried to act nonchalant and she took the reins of his horse and tied them to a post.

Dayfid walked over to her and asked, "Can I see the cow? It's my right as her savior, you know." He winked at her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Sure, you can see her. She's right in the barn." She began walking towards the barn, Dayfid in tow. Too late she realized that the stall with all the bloody bandages was in plain view. She rushed over and shut the gate to the stall, then went over to her cow. "See, she's just fine," Anara said nervously, hoping he hadn't noticed the mess in the other stall.

He looked at the cow, and then at her. "Yes, she looks fine. In fact, you can't even tell she was sick." He focused a piercing gaze at her. "Anara, what is going on out here? You are acting strangely. Well, more strangely than you have since Liam's death. You come into town after a healing phial, but your cow seems fine."

"That's because of the healing phial, Dayfid," she snapped at him.

"No, it's not. Don't try to fool me, I'm a healer, remember? I can tell when people are sick and injured. This cow was never sick. Nor were you. So who or what was the healing phial for?" His expression went from open and smiling to closed and grim. It pinned her to the spot: she couldn't move without giving herself away. Slowly she shifted her weight back and forth between her two feet.

"Dayfid, please don't make me tell you. For the sake of our friendship, and anything else it could have been, please don't make me tell you," she said, her voice small and hard. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading him to just leave it alone.

He looked at her, taking in her pleading stance and what she'd asked. He sighed, walked over to her and held her in his arms. He whispered in her ear, "Ok, I won't ask. For the sake of my feelings for you, I won't ask." He brushed her hair back from her face and held her at arm's length, giving her a hard look, "But promise me you aren't getting yourself into trouble."

She gave him a hug and said, "Thank you. But I can't promise you that which I don't know the answer to."

He looked down at her face, her beautiful face, and saw the remnants of tears there. He took in the fatigue in her eyes, the way her hair was mussed up, bits of hay still stuck in it, and the blood under her fingernails. There were marks that looked like fingers starting to purple on her neck. He looked around the barn and noticed the stall that she had hastily tried to conceal. Walking over to it he saw bloody rags and the remnants of food. Then he turned around and headed out the door of the barn. "Who is this person, Anara? If you're harboring a criminal…if he left those marks on your neck…"

"You said you wouldn't make me tell you," she begged him.

"That was before I saw that you were injured." He brushed away her hair and touched her neck lightly. The pressure made her wince with pain. Dayfid's eyes grew cold and hard, and he began walking towards the house.

"Don't! Please don't!" she cried, running after him.

"I've stood by and watched you spiral further and further down this self destructive path," he said. "I hoped that I could see you through it. That my love would be enough for you in the end. But now," he turned to face her, a finger pointing in her face. His face was red with fury and something else. "Now you have invited someone into your home who has hurt you. And that I will not allow. I'm going to see who this person is for myself. I'm not taking your word for it anymore."

The door swung open and Dayfid strode through it. Anara snuck in behind him and tried to circle around him to get in front of the bedroom door. But he was too quick. The bedroom door slammed open, and the cleric came face to face with Valen.

Valen was taller than Dayfid, and larger as well. But Dayfid had divine fury and the element of surprise backing him up, and the larger man seemed to quail a little in front of the cleric. Anara stepped in between them, trying to hold off any physical confrontation. Her only hope was that Dayfid would see reason before he tried something foolish. She didn't stand a chance of stopping either of them if it came to blows.

"Dayfid, please," she pleaded, trying to get him to look at her. But his eyes were fixated on the tiefling standing behind her. The two men stared at one another, the tension in the room ratcheting up with each silent moment that passed. Anara stood between them, a hand on each, trying to will them to speak with one another.

"And who are you?" Dayfid finally asked, his voice quiet and grim, but all of the power of his divine office behind it.

"Valen Shadowbreath."

"What are you?" he said, quieter and deadlier than before.

"A tiefling."

"Did you hurt Anara?"

Valen shrunk back down onto the bed. His head dropped and he starred at the floor. "Yes," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear him. "For that I'm sorry."

Dayfid's hand drew back behind his head. His eyes rolled back and he began to chant some incantation when Anara pushed him down to the ground.

"You will not go slinging spells in this house!" she screamed at him. Her finger pointed back at Valen. "He said he was sorry! I accepted his apology. Anything else is none of your concern. If you truly want to be my friend, you will leave, now!"

The cleric stood up, brushing dust off his pants. "I only want you to be safe," he started. But Anara was pushing him out the door.

They stood out in the yard, the young woman glaring at the blonde haired man. She closed the distance between them and grabbed one of his hands. "I know you mean well, Dayfid. But please, I know what I'm doing. You have to trust me. Please don't do anything to hurt that man in there. He's been through enough."

"You win. I won't hurt him. I just don't want any harm to come to you. You're still so young. You have your whole life in front of you. I know it hasn't seemed that way since Liam was killed. I know you haven't wanted to live since he was found in the forest. But that fear and grief will subside eventually, and then you'll have to continue on with your life. I only hope," he swallowed hard. He didn't know if he could say this to her. "I only hope you'll allow me to be a part of your life, once you realize you have one to live." He caught her up in an embrace and kissed her forehead.

Anara heard him mount his horse and leave. She sighed heavily and sat on the ground. She had known, of course, that Dayfid loved her. That he would love her no matter what foolishness she got up to. She didn't deserve his love. She didn't deserve his kindness, either. She sat out in the yard with her arms around her knees, rocking. She was lost in a miasma of grief, but this time no tears would come.

When she finally got a hold of herself, she went back to the barn and finished her chores. The work freed her mind up so she could think about what she was doing. There was a man who was part demon, but mostly human, sitting in her house this very moment. A man who had threatened her life, but whom she wanted to protect. She didn't believe he really meant to harm her. Then there was Dayfid. Her feelings about him had always been mixed, and today did nothing to clarify anything. So she busied herself tidying up the barn while she avoided thinking about the deeper problems in her life, and why she kept putting herself into harms way.

When there were no more tasks to be done, and the sun was starting to set, she went back into the house. Valen was sitting at the kitchen table, in front of a meal he had prepared. There was a setting for her as well. Frozen with the remnants of the fear she'd felt earlier, she stood in the doorway, outlined by the setting sun.

He stood up. His eyes were downcast and his shoulders were slumped. He looked upset, or guilty. "I'm sorry about earlier. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me my anger. I would say I didn't know what came over me, but I'd be lying. It's my demonic heritage. I tried for years to suppress it, but living in the Abyss has brought it out more strongly. I fixed you dinner to apologize." He looked at her and flashed a tentative and disarming smile.

She walked over to the table and sat down, her hands automatically going to her neck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that he had sat back down and was tucking into the food with abandon. He seemed normal now. His eyes had lost the red glow of earlier, and his anger seemed to be in check. He seemed genuinely sorry for having tried to strangle her.

"Thanks for fixing dinner, Valen," she said, giving him a shy glance.

Don't thank me until you've tried it," he warned. Then he shot her a smile. The smile made him look more human than she had seen him look in the few short days he'd been here. He looked young – probably only a year or two older than she was. Then silence descended upon them both while they ate.

"Well, that was very good," she said when she'd finished. She stood and began clearing the dishes. She felt his hand on hers and she looked up at him.

"Let me clean up," he said. "I owe you for saving my life. And I'm still really sorry about what I did earlier. There's no excuse for that." Anara sat down in front of the fire and stared into the flames. When he was finished, he sat on the couch near her. There was no where else to sit, except the floor. They sat there, staring into the fire for a long time. The silence between them expanded until it seemed to fill the whole house. There were questions that begged to be asked, and answers that should be given, but still the quiet remained. After all that had happened, she decided to start with a simple question, rather than the heavier ones that would undoubtedly come later.

"How old are you, anyway?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I believe I'm around 19 or 20 years old," said Valen. "How about you? How old are you? You seem young to be a widow and own a farm."

"I'm 18. I was married at 17, widowed at 17. My husband was killed out in the woods where I found you." Anara went back to staring in the fire. The flames were hypnotic. Now they came to the meat of it: the reason for her 'self destructive behavior'. The hard questions would come, and she was ready to answer them.

"What happened?" he asked, the question there at last.

"Liam was out checking traps. He was gone all day and all night. When he didn't return the next morning I went out looking for him and found his mutilated body on the trail through the woods. I brought Dayfid out to heal him, but it was too late." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I couldn't save him. Maybe if I'd gone out looking for him earlier, I could have. Maybe…" she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. God, she was tired of crying, but the tears just kept coming.

OOO

At first, Valen didn't know what to do with the crying young woman sitting next to him. She seemed so lonely and sad. He certainly understood both of those emotions. He reached over and pulled her into his arms. Then he held her while she sobbed. He stroked her hair and whispered that it was going to be all right. She snuck her arms around his chest and leaned into him. She didn't hold back – she cried until she couldn't anymore. He just let her. It seemed to be what she needed, the comfort of someone holding her while she grieved for her lost husband.

When she no longer shook with sobs, she stayed there leaning against him. In a hoarse, quiet voice she said, "I'm sorry. You must think I'm terribly silly. I'm constantly breaking into tears around you. It's just that, I haven't let myself…"

"It's all right, Anara," said Valen softly. "You're grieving. You're allowed to cry. It's a very human thing to do." He looked into the fire. "I myself am past that. Since Grimash't captured me my life has been torment and pain. No one has shown me any kindness, until you. You can't know how much that means to me." He looked deep into her eyes. "I can't begin to thank you. Not only for saving my life, but for bringing me back from the brink. Grimash't is trying to coax out my demonic side. All the fighting, the torture – it's all calculated to turn me into a raving beast, fit only for destruction. When I went through that portal, I only hoped to die away from the madness and chaos of the Abyss. But you saved me. You had your own reasons for it, but I will never forget."

Anara looked at Valen: there was so much raw emotion in his expression. She reached up and touched his cheek with her fingers. She followed the line of his cheekbone down to his mouth. She put her hands around the back of his neck. "Kiss me," she said.

Valen looked at her. "What?" he asked, surprised.

"Don't talk, don't question. Just kiss me. Make me forget," Anara breathed.

Valen leaned down to her and kissed her lightly on the lips. He tried to pull back, but Anara's hands moved around the back of his neck and pulled his face to hers again. This time, she kissed him. Feverishly, she kissed him deeper and deeper. Valen put his hands around her back. He found himself returning her kisses. He pulled her over onto his lap. They sat there on the couch, kissing and touching, for a long time. Anara pulled back and said, "Take me to the bedroom." Valen opened his mouth to protest, but Anara silenced him with her finger. "Don't talk, don't question. Just do it."

Valen picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He did as she asked – he didn't question her. He didn't talk. He let his passion and his hormones take over. Anara gave herself up to it, and pushed any guilt she was feeling down deep into the recesses of her soul. She knew that in the morning, she'd feel really bad about what was happening in here tonight. But for now she was lost in the moment: she was forgetting, and that was all that mattered.