*Stefen remembers his time in the Vale, continued... *
"Feel better?" the Tayledras asked, moving up to take Stefen in his arms.
"Yes," Stefen replied honestly, turning to face the older man. "Thank you," he said, cupping Moondance's face and kissing him softly on the lips.
Moondance pressed a kiss to Stefen's forehead then rose fluidly from the bed. He held out his hand to Stefen, like earlier. "Come, young one. Bathe and rest."
After Moondance's Healing, Stefen had stayed two weeks in the Vale. The wedding had been a great success and that night he'd found himself in Springhawk's arms. They'd pursued a brief, but enjoyable relationship. Springhawk's expectations mirrored his own: physical release, companionship, and no lasting promises.
Medren had caught up to him. "You would just leave me in the dark, wouldn't you?"
Stefen's voice shook with barely suppressed mirth. "All right, all right, I surrender to your relentless curiosity." He paused dramatically and struck a pose. "The name you are seeking is…"
"Out with it!" Medren cried, chucking an apple core at him.
"No one you know," Stefen said simply. "A Tayledras scout. A few others, never at Haven. There's too much talk."
Curiosity satisfied, Medren leaned back in his saddle. "Tayledras, eh? I've always wondered what you did at the Vales."
Stefen snorted. "More than rutting!" He began humming an unusual tune and Medren cocked his head, listening.
"Yes, music, dunce. I learn new music, new strands of song." He hummed a bit more. "That's part of why they allow me to visit so frequently."
"Once every two years is frequent?" Medren asked.
"For an outsider who has never been named Wingbrother, yes," Stefen replied. "It's a complicated culture, and one I'll never fully understand. They do make great music, though."
Medren shook his head. "Treesa remembers the younger one- Moonsong? Moondance?—as an angel still. Her savior, she called him."
Laughing, Stefen replied, "Medren, if there's one thing I can tell you with a great deal of certainty, it's that Moondance is not an angel."
"Well, at any rate, I'm glad to hear you're not turning into a statue," Medren replied.
"No, that was Vanyel's specialty," Stefen said with a slight smile. "I was always the randier one."
"I don't doubt it," Medren replied dryly.
"Not that I can hold a candle to you these days." Stefen held out both hands then shook his head. "No, I'd need ten batches of hands and more toes, too, to make the count!"
"Oh, that's absurd!" Smiling slowly, Medren continued, "Ten batches of hands wouldn't even cover my time at Forst Reach."
Stefen merely sighed and raised his hands skyward.