This is a very unusual What If scenario.

What if the world of Equestria didn't have talking Ponies, but instead the three tribes of Ponies were replaced with Elves, Dwarves and Fae?

Have fun!

Jethro put down the book he had been reading and leaned back in the chair he'd been sitting in. He stretched and felt his joints popping as he relaxed and looked around the room he'd been sitting in for the past few hours. He was sitting in a large room full of books that stretched up to the ceiling, an arched window that let light in from the wintery scene outside, and a roaring fire in the fireplace in front of him. Above him, unlit, was a large chandelier with small opaque spheres that lit up at night without other sources of light. He reached over to the small table beside him and took a sip of one of Harmonholm's best beverages, mulled apple cider from the Appledale Farm outside Harmonholm's walls. He enjoyed the taste of the warm beverage that flowed smoothly down his throat. Looking down, he saw that he was almost out and he could see the bits of cinnamon that had formed near the bottom. Chuckling, he drank the rest, enjoying the cinnamon aftertaste before he stood and stretched. He put the book back in its proper place lest he elicit the wrath of the town's local librarian Elora, the Elf maiden.

As he walked down the stairs towards the main level of the Gōldac Library, he saw young Prica, Elora's adopted dragon sister, in a smaller section of said library organizing a few books. Nearby, he heard the voice of Elora muttering something in her native language. Stopping, he turned and entered the room. When Prica saw him, she beamed, dropped what she was doing, and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. "Fæd!" she exclaimed loudly, calling him by an ancient word for father.

Jethro chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, lifting the young drake up. "Hey, Prica," he said warmly as he held the young dark purple dragoness, "helping Elora with some organizing?"

"Big sis says if I help, she'll take me to get some spice cake from Halstán Bakery!" Prica said excitedly.

At that moment, Elora of the ancient Blican clan of Elves poked her head out from a nearby shelf. She looked like she was on one of the ladders attached to the shelves. "This is still a library, you two," the light purple eyed and white-haired Elf woman admonished the two with a wiggle of her finger, "so keep quiet."

"Sorry, big sis," Prica said softly.

Elora's smile returned and she slid down the ladder with the grace and beauty her race was known for in this world. She walked over to the two, looking over at Jethro and smiling warmly at him. "Did you find anything interesting up there?" she asked.

"I actually found some really amazing history books," he replied, "and they read similarly to The Silmarillion so it held my attention. I read about the War of Three."

Elora shook her head sadly. "Such a sad waste of life," she said.

"Yes, yes it was," he agreed, "but since it led to the founding of Freodlō̆nd, at least it had a good outcome."

Elora nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess so. Still, I wish we'd learned to get along better earlier."

"Sometimes, these things have to happen so that future generations can learn from them," Jethro said. "I'm not saying war is a good thing, but people will make mistakes. What we need to do is learn from them."

Elora sighed and took Prica from his hands, holding the young drake close. "I can see your point," she agreed, "and I'm just glad High Lady Sunnena and High Lady Mōnena managed to help bring peace to Freodlō̆nd for as long as they have."

"Two thousand years of rule isn't anything to sniff at, especially by two Alvs," Jethro agreed. He looked at his digital watch. "Oh! I'm gonna be late!"

"Where are you off to?" Elora asked.

"Pyria's place," Jethro said, "she promised to help me pick out a few clothes to wear around. My winter clothes work for Earth winter, but Eridain's weather up here can be nippy even for my clothes."

"Going anywhere after that?"

Jethro shrugged. "Wherever the wind takes me, I suppose," he said.

Elora chuckled and reached out her soft snow-white hand. It was surrounded in a light purple magic and the empty mug that was still in Jethro's hands flew out and into her hand. "Then go," the Elf librarian said with a chuckle, "you know better than to keep that woman waiting."

Jethro nodded, gave her a quick hug, and headed down the stairs and out into Harmonholm's streets.

The town of Harmonholm was large, spreading out across the large Drútavale in which the town had been founded five hundred and twenty-three years prior. It was a mix of various styles of buildings, ranging from houses built inside Elvenhome Trees like the library to houses made of hardened and magically infused rock and stone with diamonds for windows. Even the houses of the Fae were unique, being made of massive enduring leaves of the last of the Farsight Forest before its near destruction during the War of Three. There were other more common looking houses that one might expect to see in a medieval town, too, and these were some of the more modern houses.

Even in the bitter cold of midwinter, this close to the Winterwand holiday the streets were decorated with many different colored magical lights which adorned the many medieval looking houses and businesses around the town. There were red and green banners, plenty of holly wreaths hanging on doorframes, and Elves, Dwarves and Fae were walking or flying to and fro, buying many different presents or foods for the Winterwand feast in two days' time. Jethro could even smell the mouthwatering scent of roast turkey, chicken, ham, and various sweet smells that he'd come to associate with the holiday season around the town.

Many of the inhabitants of the town saw him walking quickly through the snowy winter day and waved at him. It wasn't hard to spot Jethro among the crowd since he was a human, and they were a race out of myth in this world. Jethro remembered speaking to a teal eyed Elf woman for days about humans. She was an expert on them, at least according to the myths about them in this world, and was eager to learn more and unlearn any false beliefs about them.

As he walked through the snow, he turned a corner and almost collided with three young girls who were running through the snow and playing. "Whoa, there!" he shouted as he stopped. Looking down, he saw who they were. They were a rambunctious trio of girls who called themselves The Three Musketeers. They'd actually met at a party thrown to celebrate the birthday of one of the richest Dwarf girls in town, Tiwaya of Clan Battleborn, and they quickly became fast friends. Jethro had been there as well, and they'd asked what kind of name their new secret society could have. His mind had immediately gone to Alexandre Dumas' novel, and they'd taken it for their own.

"Oh! Jethro!" one of them, a young Dwarf girl named Blósma Appledale, said as she looked up at the human with light orange eyes. She pushed her dark brown hair aside as it had moved in front of her face. "Sorry about that," she apologized.

Jethro chuckled and knelt in front of the three. "And where are you three off to in such a rush?" he asked.

Swyit, an Elf of the Gliman clan, who had light blonde hair and green eyes, replied, "Halstán Bakery! We're getting some spice cake and some of that ice cream stuff you invented!"

"I didn't invent ice cream," Jethro chuckled, "but I'm glad you enjoy it."

"It's almost as amazing as Flare Swiftwind!" the Fae of the group, a young olive skinned, grayish purple eyed and black-haired little girl named simply Icefeather, said as she hovered above her two friends with a wide smile.

"You never find anything as amazing as Flare," Swyit said with a roll of her eyes.

Icefeather landed on the Elf girl's back and giggled, "Because it's true."

Jethro chuckled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a leather pouch. He dug in and pulled out three gold pieces each and handed one to each of them. "Here," he said with a smile, "have some treats on me today."

The three girls' eyes widened at the amount of money they now held in their hands. With a quick "Thank you!" they rushed off to the Halstán Bakery, laughing and telling each other just what they'd get with their new fortune.

Shaking his head, he stood and walked on. Eventually, he made his way to Pyria's place. Her clothing boutique sat somewhat apart from the other shops and businesses on Harmonholm's main road. Like most other buildings in the village, Pyria's Boutique was not only named after its founder, but had a unique style to it. The building itself was built into an Elvenhome tree but the first floor of the tree itself had been shaped by magic to resemble a cut gemstone. He walked up and pushed open the heavy door. From inside, he heard "One moment!"

"Take your time, Pyria," Jethro chuckled.

"Oh Jethro! It's you!" the voice of the Elven fashionista said. "I'll be right down!"

Jethro smiled and took a seat in one of Pyria's cushioned seats that she'd bought from High Byrin, the capital city of Freodlō̆nd, and looked around the main level of the store. It was large and mostly circular, with massive displays of clothes for men and women of all races. Most were winter gear but there were some Winterwand themed ones, consisting of red and green and some white.

Pyria came rushing down the stairs, her long golden hair tied back in a ponytail and her dark purple eyes glistening as she smiled. "Darling, so glad you could come by!" she said.

Jethro stood and accepted the hug that she gave him. "Well, it is getting too cold for my clothes to handle," he admitted sheepishly as the two broke the hug, "and I know you're the best at clothing enchantment in all of Harmonholm."

Pyria smiled. "Unless you know some other Elf I don't know about," she said, "you've come to the right place!" She took his hand and began pulling him eagerly towards another door, beyond which her main workstation lay. "I'm sure you know what to do by now," she said as she closed the door behind them.

"I do," he said as he began to take off his clothes. Soon he was only in his boxers and a tank-top and standing in the middle of the room. "I'm ready."

Pyria smiled and began measuring him. This didn't take long as she was an expert at this already, and soon she was busily sewing a few clothes for him. "This shouldn't take too long for me to finish," she said, "so if you have any other place you need to be, you don't have to stick around. Come back anytime, and bring your own clothes so I can enchant them too. For now, though, I can create some enchanted clothes for you so you won't have to freeze to death."

"Sounds good to me," he said, knowing that the young Elf didn't particularly like people looking over her shoulder while she worked. "I guess I'll head over to Luida's place for something to eat."

"Do say hi to that happy hardworking Dwarf for me, would you dear?" Pyria asked without looking up from her workstation.

"I will," he said as he took his leave.

Halstán Bakery, run by a Dwarf couple, was one of the most popular establishments for pastries of all kinds, including cakes and other sweet confectionaries. Luida of the Hardhelm clan, a Dwarf who enjoyed a good party, worked there as one of their chief bakers. Jethro entered and was immediately hit by the smell of baked bread, mead and ale and sweet pastries, some of which were brand new to the bakery, having been introduced by Jethro when he'd arrived.

His presence didn't go unnoticed as he received a number of hails and greetings from the nearby customers who saw him entered. He was also quickly greeted by the very Dwarf he'd come to see. Luida seemingly appeared out of nowhere and was immediately in Jethro's face, beaming at him. "Hi, Jethro!" she said happily. She was short as most Dwarves were, about four and a half feet or so tall and very strong. However, she was still very clearly female and had more curves than most other female Dwarves he'd seen. Her bright blue eyes were wide with happiness and her dark brown hair was tied back in a bun. "What brings you by?"

"Just came over for some of that delicious stew inside a bread bowl and some cake," he replied.

"Anything to drink?" Luida asked.

"A light mead," Jethro said.

"Over here!" a familiar voice called out from one of the window seats. Jethro turned and saw Elora and Prica sitting with the Musketeers.

"Go ahead and sit down, Jethro," Luida said, "and I'll get your order over soon. The beef and potato stew, right?"

"Yep," he said. As Luida walked away, Jethro walked over to the booth where the five were seated and took a seat on the edge next to Elora. Looking over at the Musketeers, he grinned. "Decided on some holiday treats, I see," he said, pointing to the eggnog ice cream which he'd helped introduce as a holiday staple.

The three girls nodded. "It's delicious!" Icefeather said.

"Oh, definitely!" Prica, who was eating a bowl of the same sort of ice cream herself, nodded in agreement.

Elora was eating a holiday fruit bowl along with a couple bread rolls and a soup that, when Jethro had tried it, reminded him of miso. She took one of the bread rolls and offered it to him, which he accepted gratefully. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," she replied warmly. "How was your visit to Pyria's place?"

"Productive," he replied. "She's making me some enchanted clothes and told me to bring some of my own by later so she could enchant them."

"Order up!" Luida said suddenly as she popped up with a tray. She placed Jethro's order down in front of him. "Here you are, Jethy," she said with a wide smile.

"Thanks, Luida," he said. "Oh, Pyria says hi, by the way."

Luida giggled. "That Elf is such a sweetie," she said.

"Lu! There's a spill at the bar!" a male voice called out from nearby. "Can you help clean it?"

"Coming!" the Dwarf called out. She rushed off, skipping and letting her bar maid outfit bounce around.

Jethro began eating, savoring the juicy meat and potato stew and letting the taste of the Dwarven brewed ale wash it down. As he ate, he heard a lute begin strumming nearby. He turned and saw an Elf playing. He recognized her as the same Elf who had the questions about humans. She sat there and strummed a tune before she started to sing.

In times gone by, in lands of old,
three diff'rent races made abode.
The Dwarves, the Fae and Elven kin
lived separate, till war began.

A war so terrible was fought
that many lands were there unwrought
The War of Three as now it's called
shall be forever now recalled.

The forest trees, the halls of stone
meadows where fairies made their home
were marred and scared forevermore
which led them all to distant shores.

Across the Sea of Glass they came
a brand new land they wished to tame
and so they separately embarked
to find new homes and make their mark.

For many years distrust among
each race grew strong, with songs unsung
of friendship or of common ground
And animosity abound.

In ancient Hall of Shadowstone
the delving Dwarves did make their home
and there, at once, beheld the fire
of inner peace, which soothed their ire.

The flame was wrought into two rings,
given to those with magic and wings.
And now, those rings do grace the hands
of the two Alvs of Freodlō̆nd

And now we celebrate with glee
of happiness and harmony.
For Dwarves and Fae and Elven kin
are all at peace, until the end.

Jethro left the Halstán Bakery after finishing his meal. He was full and warmer now. Food from that place always kept him warm for hours after he ate it. He wandered through the town until he made his way towards the southern wall. The crowds were less there, but that was where one of his friends lived, and he wanted to wish her a Warm Winterwand, or a Merry Christmas.

As he approached the large Elven Tree where his friend lived, he couldn't help but marvel at it. It was tall and the branches were currently laden with snow. Fluttering's windows had three candle candelabras in them, each flame enchanted to be different colors. There were garlands of holly on the windowsills and a wreath on the door. Walking up, he knocked on the door. Inside he heard nothing, but after a bit, the door opened. There, standing in the doorway, was the Fae Fluttering Breeze. Her hair was pink with a few gold streaks which were braided while her pink hair was left straight. Her wings behind her were flapping slightly, shimmering with their magic. She was his height, but also slender with short pointed ears unlike Elven ears which were more elongated. She was wearing a long evergreen colored dress with a holly crown on her head. "Oh, my…Jethro…I didn't realize it was our weekly tea time today," she said in a hushed tone.

"Who's that?" a voice called out from inside the house. A harsh but familiar tone. Another Fae came flying up, her hair shorter and bearing all the colors of the rainbow, with a big emphasis on red, orange and yellow. Her wings were similar in color to Fluttering's but they flapped harder, making the athletic Fae hover above the ground. She was about as slender as Fluttering, albeit an inch or two shorter, and was wearing a festive red dress in a similar style to Fluttering's. "Hey Jeth, didn't expect to see you here," Flare Swiftwind said.

"Same to you, Flare," he said, "I just came to see how Flutters was doing and to wish her a Warm Winterwand."

"Well come on in," Flare said, grabbing Jethro and tugging him in before he or Fluttering could protest, "You're probably freezing your ass off."

Jethro groaned. She'd picked up some of his more unsavory language and now he was regretting it. Still, the warmth of Fluttering's house was welcoming and he shivered involuntarily. "It is getting pretty cold outside," he admitted.

"Oh my, I have something for that. Wait here," Fluttering said as she rushed into her kitchen. The way a Fae ran was even graceful. Even a Fae like Flare was graceful in her own way.

As Jethro rubbed himself to get warm, Flare came over and began doing the same, but much faster. "You really need some new clothes," she said.

"Yeah, I just got some ordered from Pyria," he replied.

Flare nodded in approval. "About damn time you did that."

"Hey, I'm a stubborn bastard sometimes," he said, "and I like my Earth clothes, thank you."

She rolled her eyes. "And they call Tara stubborn…"

"What's this about Tara?" Fluttering asked as she brought a steaming hot mug of something sweet smelling.

"Just saying how this guy here is as stubborn as she is," Flare said with a grin.

Jethro sighed. "I'm working on it, alright?" He took the mug gratefully, thanked Fluttering, and took a sip. She'd brought him hot vanilla milk with freshly grated nutmeg on top, which he drank slowly, letting the warmth course through his body. "Hot vanilla or hot chocolate, a drink like this is still amazing," he said as he dabbed at his lips with his handkerchief.

"Flutters does make the best hot nilla out there," Flare said, patting her fellow Fae on the back.

"Oh…my…you think so?" Fluttering asked, "even more than Luida?"

Flare looked around as if expecting the happy go lucky Dwarf to show up from somewhere, but then leaned in, lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Yep!" She stood back up and added, "She puts too much vanilla in hers. I like a lot of her other sweets, but she tends to go overboard. Yours is more like…oh…what's the word I'm looking for?" Flare frowned and snapped her fingers, apparently trying to think.

"Comfort food?" Jethro offered.

She snapped louder and pointed at me. "Yes! That's it!" She turned to Fluttering. "Yours is sweet but not too sweet. It's just right!"

Fluttering blushed in the cute way she always did whenever someone was giving her a compliment. "Um…thank you," she said, hiding behind her pink hair.

Jethro and Flare chuckled a bit at Fluttering's reaction, and soon the shy Fae was laughing along. As the laughter died down, Jethro looked at the kitchen table and saw that there was a card game set up. "Oh, did I interrupt something?" he asked, nodding at the table.

Flare shook her head. "Nah, we were just finishing up a game of Go Fish," she explained.

"Still can't believe you like that game," Jethro said with a shake of his head. "It doesn't seem like something that you'd like. Too…girly." He gave her a smirk.

Now it was Flare's turn to blush. "Well, I do, so shut up," Flare said, smacking his back with her wings.

"Hey, no judgement from me," Jethro said defensively, moving away from her while he kept the smirk on his face, "I just said I'm surprised."

Fluttering giggled cutely before she turned to Jethro. "Would you like to play a round with us?"

Appledale Farm, run by the Dwarven Appledale family, was a vast swath of land that lay just outside Harmonholm's inner walls, as did many other farms. However, the Appledale Farm was the biggest and oldest in the town, having been the first to have been constructed five hundred and twenty-three years ago. Jethro could see the large stone structure of the Dwarven style house sitting near the inner edge of the town's second outer walls. The farmland was surrounded itself by a smaller stone wall of its own. There were tall stone silos where the grain was stored, a large barn made of Dwarven bricks where the farm equipment lay, a watermill which used an offshoot of the great Sanguine River (which flowed through Harmonholm) to grind grain and a large building of Dwarven make where farmhands lived.

He, however, was heading towards the main house, a tall brick building where the Appledale family lived. As he approached, he saw the eldest of the Appledale family siblings. Macgrim Appledale, an unusually tall but still muscular Dwarf with dirty blonde hair and deep red eyes, was swinging an axe and chopping a number of pieces of wood in front of the house as Jethro approached. When the Dwarf spotted the human approaching, he put his axe down and removed the protective diamond goggles around his head. "Afternoon," the stalwart and mostly silent Dwarf said politely.

"Good afternoon, Mac," Jethro replied, nodding at him before turning to the house. "Is Tana home?"

"Yep," Macgrim replied, "she's with our grandmother checking on the brews downstairs."

"Can I go see her?" Jethro asked, "I came over to pick up the barrels of mulled apple cider I bought."

"You know the way," Macgrim said, pointing to one side of the house, "so go ahead."

Jethro thanked him and headed towards the outer basement door. It was open, and he could hear the echoing voices of two women coming up from the basement. The first one he heard was the voice of the grandmother, a nearly six hundred Dwarf woman named Smyta, as she was saying, "…not quite right yet. The taste is still wrong."

"I guess so," Tara's voice echoed up from the bottom of the basement, and Jethro smiled. Hers was a distinctive voice, clearly feminine but with a strength behind it that I admired. "So…maybe another month?"

"Yes, my child," Smyta said. Jethro heard the sound of a barrel lid being placed back on top of a barrel.

At that moment, Jethro reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the massive cellar. He was always impressed by the underground cave that the Appledale family had used for centuries to protect the aging caskets of various beverages they brewed for Harmonholm's citizens. It was lit with torchlight and a few lit lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The barrels all sat on the ground with some lying on their side on shelves that were carved out of the walls themselves. The latter barrels had spigots in them and were labelled by type and barreling date. The cave seemed to go on for about the entire length of a football field.

When Tara and Matriarch Smyta heard the heavy wooden door creaking open, they turned as one. Tara's eyes widened and she smiled wide. "Jethro! Good to see you!" Smyta was about a few inches taller than Luida. She was a rarity among Dwarves as she actually could tan pretty well even in winter. Her hair was a dark and dirty blonde and was tied up behind her in a bun. Her green eyes seemed to glow in the warm glow of the torches and lanterns.

"Greetings, young lad," Smyta said warmly as well. Despite being over six centuries old, Smyta didn't look a day over forty. She was a head shorter than her granddaughter and had pale skin, very light blonde hair with streaks of white in it, and piercing orange eyes. She, like most Dwarves her age, was extremely strong despite being in her golden years. She was actually holding one of the barrels all by herself which she set down among the others. "'Tis good to see you again."

"And you as well, Matriarch," Jethro said, bowing respectfully to the elder Appledale Dwarf. "Warm Winterwand to you."

"And also to you," Smyta and Tara replied automatically.

"Are you here to get the cider?" Tara asked.

Jethro nodded. "You said come by anytime today to pick it up, but it looks like I'm interrupting something. I can come back-"

"Nay, there's no need for that," Smyta said with a wave of her hand, "We are nearly finished here and can complete it later. Tara, provide him with the barrel and help him take it to his house. I shall retire for a brief repose before we finish. And we shall finish it together," Smyta finished with a warning glare at her granddaughter.

Tara gulped nervously and nodded. "I-I understand," she said.

"Good." Smyta looked down the hall. "I shall tend to the lights before I retire. You two can head up without me. Let Macgrim know what we have found before you go, Tara."

"I will, Grandmother," Tara said as she turned to Jethro. "Come on, I'll get the ponies hitched up to the cart and we can take the barrels to your house."

"Sounds good," Jethro said as he headed up the stairs beside her.

It didn't take them long to hitch up two of the best ponies on the farm to the cart. Tara lifted five of the barrels onto the cart with ease, something that always impressed Jethro. He offered to help, but she said, "You're our customer, it wouldn't be right if we didn't do all the work."

Ten minutes later, Jethro was seated on the pony drawn carriage with Tara as she maneuvered them through the holiday rush of Harmonholm's streets. The two were greeted with many "Warm Winterwand!" and "Happy Holidays!" from the Fae, Elves and Dwarves wandering the busy streets. They greeted them back, but other than that they weren't bothered much. They eventually reached the property that had been provided for him by the High Ladies where his house had been teleported after its initial deposit at the edge of the nearby Briarwood. The High Ladies had been gracious enough to grant him special dispensation as the only human in the world as well as a monthly stipend of two thousand gold coins as well. Still, he did do odd jobs around the town, such as repairs or helping businesses if they were understaffed. He helped out the most at Appledale Farm, helping with the harvest or reshoeing one of the ponies or horses if a horseshoe was tossed, or even helping Macgrim in his side business of smithing.

Macgrim was one of the best blacksmiths in town and would have gone on to do just that if his and Tara's parents hadn't suddenly disappeared without a trace some ten years ago. He stayed on at the farm despite their grandmother saying that it would be okay if he pursued his dream. Still, he persisted, and Smyta had dropped the issue. Jethro was learning a lot from him, and he had even shown Macgrim some techniques from the staticnet that he could incorporate into his smithing.

Tara led the cart to his house's new stable. Jethro had asked for it to be built in the event that he bought a horse, which he planned on doing in the spring. After that, Tara unloaded the cart and carried the barrels to the also new stone shed which also had a smaller cellar dug underneath it for storage. She quickly took them to the cellar while at the same time bringing the empty barrels up so she could take them back to Appledale. Finally, when she was done, she wiped her brow of sweat. "Phew…you still have two barrels from the last time you bought some from us," she said.

"I like having a healthy supply," Jethro said, "especially since Flare tends to buy more from you guys than even I do."

"That little woodsprite does love her cider," Tara said with a chuckle.

Jethro joined in at that, and after a few moments, the chuckling died down. The two looked at each other with smiles on their faces. Suddenly, Tara launched herself at Jethro, pinning him to ground and straddling him while pinning his arms to the floor. The two looked at each other before Tara quickly leaned down, closed her eyes and locking lips with him ferociously. Jethro immediately got out of her grip and wrapped his arms around the Dwarf, pulling her closer and kissing her back with equal passion. Jethro felt Tara's arms snaking around his back and heard her moaning into the kiss.

After a good long minute, they broke the kiss, both panting for breath and looking into each other's' eyes with desire. Tara stood and held out a hand to him. He took it and she hoisted him to his feet. "We've got time," she said, pulling me to the door, "and I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," Jethro said, "but are you sure?"

"Grandmother's naps always last a few hours," Tara said with a saucy grin, "and I know Mac will cover for me. Come on!" She pulled Jethro towards the door with more urgency.

Jethro chuckled and let her pull him towards his house.

Two and a half hours later, Jethro and Tara were cuddling under the covers in Jethro's bedroom. Both were completely naked and spent, but there were smiles on both their faces. Jethro felt extremely satisfied, and the smile on Tara's face indicated she felt the same. She pressed her surprisingly silky smooth body against his, tracing his chest with her fingers lovingly. "That was the best coupling yet," she whispered softly. "You're learning."

"I have an amazing teacher," Jethro replied, reaching down to gently stroke her smooth cheek.

She leaned into it and let her cheek be cupped in his hand. She leaned up after a while and kissed his tenderly. "Jethro…I love you so much…"

Jethro turned and kissed her once more. "I love you too, Tara."

The two lovers lay there, basking in the warmth not only of the heater and the blankets, but in their love for each other and the Winterwand season's holiday glow.