Chapter Seventeen

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Playing hero at the lake comes at a price. The ice-cold water drained all my energy. Arl, who still moonlights as the village healer, puts me on bed rest. Ehmay enforces it with an iron hand. There's really no need for that, in my opinion. I can't stand on my own two feet without the room spinning. Alie and Ehmay have to take turns helping me to the basket chamberpot whenever my bladder says it's time for a visit. It's a humbling experience being such a burden.

Although the banishment to my bed was necessary, it is difficult to express how frustrating it is lying around doing nothing all day. I have no books to read or television to watch. The only amusement I receive is Ewar commanding me to "stay" in bed whenever he suspects I want to get up. It was funny the first hundred times. But now... not so much.

While I rest, boredom gives way to self-reflection and second-guessing. If reading science fiction taught me anything, it was don't mess around with the past. One tiny change could trigger a series of unforeseen disasters. I could accidentally step on a plant in this era, and BAM! I just wiped out the predecessor of wheat. That would mean one of mankind's most important agricultural products will never exist because of my fuck up. See? The butterfly effect doesn't play nice. A couple of months ago, I concluded that I should watch my step (literally and figuratively) until I can get back home to the twenty-first century. I don't want to cause any major disturbances to the timeline.

So, did I lie low, keep my head down? Nope. I rescued someone at the lake. Afrin was meant to die that day. Yet, I saved her. If me being trapped in the Stone Age is a ripple to the timeline, keeping someone from dying would have to be considered a tsunami.

What does that mean for the future?

On Day Three of my enforced bed rest, Mett and Oza usher their children into Ewar's hut. While Oza watches, Mett sets Afrin next to me on the bed. She's a tiny thing, with bright blue eyes and her father's dark hair. You would never guess by looking at her that she was fighting for her life a few days earlier. She's the picture of health now - a stark contrast to me.

Our visit starts off awkwardly. The little girl would glance at me only when she thought I wasn't paying her any attention. This shyness of hers lasted approximately thirty seconds. Before I could guess what was happening, Afrin is already on my lap. She rewards me with the sweetest of smiles. From then on, I am wrapped around her finger.

Based upon further review of the matter, I have amended the rules of the butterfly effect. If saving a life changes the past, then so be it. The space-time continuum will just have to deal with the potential consequences.

A week after the incident at the lake, Arl declares me well enough to leave bed. I can step outdoors by myself again! I go about doing my chores with something approaching happiness. Even dumping out the contents of the chamberpot doesn't seem as gruesome... and that's saying something.

Ewar and I are invited to his aunt and uncle's place for the evening meal. Alie and Jas are invited too, so it's a nice little family affair. Steamed fish seasoned with some sort of strong herb is served on planks of wood. There is also porridge, bars made from melted fat and seeds, and a concoction of mashed dried fruit that reminds me of unsweetened jam. Most of the ingredients are impossible to forage during the dead of winter. Ehmay sacrificed much of her and Arl's food reserves in order to put together such a special meal.

But, why?

I receive an answer once I open my eyes and ears. The family is being extra attentive of me this evening. My reactions to each dish are being carefully noted. Not only that, I am also the first person being served. Belatedly, I realize this meal was made in honor of my recovery. My heart is touched. It's been ages since any of my milestones have been acknowledged, let alone celebrated.

"Ehmay," I speak softly. She pauses eating to look at me. "Ma... malāi-s...mas."

My fumbling attempt at speaking in their language comes as a great surprise. I had thanked her. She stares and stares. Little by little, a pleased smile graces her face. She nods her head in recognition of my gratitude. Then, she proceeds to give me another generous helping of fish. I accept it enthusiastically. Why wouldn't I? It's delicious.

At the conclusion of the meal, Arl and Ewar engage in a fast-paced conversation. I don't understand a word. Ewar eventually turns to me.

"Arl want... learn..." He huffs, forehead wrinkling. After a short time in thought, he tries communicating again - this time using body language combined with speaking. He points at me first. Then, he reenacts the chest pumping I performed several days earlier. "Learn, heal touch," he stresses at the end of the performance.

I lift my eyebrows at what he said. "Arl wants to learn how I helped Afrin?"

"Yes."

My lower lip gets pulled underneath a tooth. CPR is a modern technique. To teach it to a Stone Age healer would fly against the rules of the butterfly effect. Then again, how could I not teach it? Arl could save countless lives if only he knew how to do it...

I smile. "Ok."

We clear a space to start the lesson, but I hesitate. Demonstrating CPR without someone to do it on would be pointless. Arl needs to see the exact steps in action if he wants to perform first aid properly - and I can't make that happen all by myself. We need someone who can pretend they are unconscious for a few minutes. I scan the room for potential volunteers. Ewar is the logical choice. No one would blink an eye if I'm giving my supposed husband mouth-to-mouth.

Except for me.

One glance at him and my heart starts palpitating. I won't be able to teach Arl anything if I'm the one going into cardiac arrest! So, naturally, I ask Alie to be the stand-in victim. The advantages are twofold. Ewar can act as interpreter, and I have no physical reactions when I get close to Alie.

Alie is more than happy to be the center of attention. She does an admirable job lying on the floor like a log while I act out the steps of CPR. Although the lesson is meant for Arl, Ewar pays close attention as well. It's nice to know the local healer will still be saving lives even when I am gone.

Will the knowledge be handed down through the generations? Or, will it be lost in the millennia to come?

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Alistair warned me that winters here can last upwards of six months or more. I did not fully understand this until I experienced it myself. Each morning, I cut a notch into a stick next to my bed. It's my primitive calendar. Thirty marks. Sixty marks. Ninety marks. As days become weeks and weeks turn into months, the snow and freezing cold continues with no end in sight.

Spring seems years away.

On the not-so-cold days, the community bands together to work outside, performing a thousand different tasks which might mean the difference between life and death. They venture into the forest to collect wood to heat their homes. Traps are set up to catch small game, like rabbits and squirrels. Sometimes you can find treasures of nuts or frozen berries underneath the snow. They also gather things I never would have guessed were edible, like certain mosses and lichens.

The forest is the village's grocery store - except this Stone Age version carries food that will kill you.

Needless to say, my foraging skills aren't so hot. Some of the poisonous plants look identical to the safe ones. It would take years to learn their subtle differences. To avert disaster, Alie and Ehmay have to double-check everything I put into my basket. This takes precious time away from them that could be spent looking for food. It sucks being such a burden.

Then, one day, I find a way to make myself useful.

It all began with Afrin. Every time the women of the village go foraging, she would run over to me at some point. I had no choice but to stop working so I could give her my undivided attention. Enja, her brother, began accompanying her as well. First, they would show me the special things they had found. Minutes later, I would be playing with them without being quite sure how it started. Little kids are master manipulators, I guess. And the most amazing part?

Their mother didn't seem to mind at all!

Oza has been taking better care of herself lately. The dark circles under her eyes are gone, and she socializes with others instead of wasting away in her hut. I even saw her smile when I taught her children the proper way to build a snowman. Evidently, she no longer views me as a threat to her family.

Her apparent approval of me opened the floodgates.

First, it was Oza's children who sought me out whenever we went to the forest. Then it was Hilen's, and Athanma's too. I attract little kids like that Pied Piper guy. I'm not sure why. Are they in awe of my supposed magical powers, or do they sense that underneath my adult exterior I'm still a child at heart? No matter what the truth may be, I like the distraction they provide. I can't worry about my problems when six rugrats are begging me to show them how to do a cartwheel. Do their mothers mind that I'm getting all this attention? Hell no. With me keeping my eyes on their young ones, they can work without worrying about little Zug Junior getting into trouble.

That's right. Bella Swan, purported representative of the Goddess of Fertility, is now a glorified babysitter. Yeah, it may not be the greatest job on earth, but having stick fights with a bunch of kids is a lot more fun than scraping lichen off rocks. Sounds like a good deal to me.

Having something constructive to do speeds time along. December, January, February fly by. I pick up a few words from Alie and the children without even trying. I learn the names of some of the plants and animals the community relies on, and how to greet others properly. Ewar tries teaching me the harder words, like the four different names for snow. That lesson didn't go so well. I swear, their language is the most tongue-twisting ever to exist. And since Ewar is still a student in English, he can only explain so much to me without getting frustrated himself. So, he switches to helping me with the basic words and phrases instead. This is the more logical approach, anyway. Why bother learning the advanced stuff when I'll be out of here this coming summer?

One afternoon, clouds gather in the sky. The weather takes a turn for the worse. It's whiteout conditions by the next morning. Even traveling to the hut next door is fraught with danger. The only safe option is to stay indoors.

I use a bone needle and a length of sinew to repair a hole in a shoe. The end result looks only so-so, but hey! It's fixed as far as I'm concerned. While I work on the boring chores, the long hours stuck inside allows Ewar to focus on his artistic pursuits. He crafts a pendant with cryptic symbols, plus an animal token of a miniature turtle. The turtle is carved from a stone he found during our long trek back to his village. I fell in love with it. There's something about the turtle's simplicity that I find endearing. But the token is meant for Jas, so I never voice my admiration out loud. I don't want Ewar to feel obligated to make me one as well.

Overall, it's a quiet day. His final chore before bed is getting rid of his facial hair. He sets up everything he might need to get the job done. There's warm water, a stone knife, and a rag to dry off with. Shaving cream hasn't been invented yet. There isn't a mirror, either. I wince as the stone glides over his chin. How does he do it? It hardly matters that Ewar handles the blade with the greatest of care. Accidents can and do happen. For Christ's sake, that's a sharpened rock - not a safety razor!

My worries play out exactly as I had feared. The blade passes over the bulge in his neck. He flinches. Drops of blood ooze out of a small slit at the base of his throat.

Moving like lightning, I snatch the rag from the floor and press it against the cut. Ewar startles at my sudden appearance. His expression, however, gradually shifts to bafflement.

"You're bleeding," I blurt in explanation of my odd behavior. "And I... I don't like blood."

Ewar eased my hand and rag off his neck. He gives a tentative touch to check for damage. Bright red coats the tip of his pointer finger. With the cut exposed again, blood flows unhindered down his neck. I gulp and back away. A memory I would rather forget has been triggered. Even after he stops the bleeding, it continues to haunt me.

I hide it well. He never suspects.

He resumes the business of shaving. There are no more accidents. His face now smooth as stone, he rolls out his mat by the fire. We wish each other a good night, putting an end to the day. I hear his light snores within minutes. Across the room, I'm in bed. I lie buried up to my neck in blankets, staring at the ceiling. A mantra is set on repeat inside my head.

Don't fall asleep. You know what will happen if you do. Don't fall asleep...

The crackling of the fire is a lullaby. I blink. When my eyelids reopen, I'm back in Forks.

I'm standing on the yellow line of the highway leading into town. There's the welcome sign, and the one warning drivers to look out for wild animals crossing the road. I don't have time to wonder the how or why I ended up in such an unusual spot. Another, far more important, phenomenon is taking place nearby.

A police car is coming this way. I'd recognize this one anywhere.

It's following a beat-up car that is in desperate need of a decent mechanic. The police cruiser's overhead lights are on. Both vehicles roll to a stop. They park themselves across the road from where I stand, affording me the perfect view. The siren shuts off. A uniformed officer steps out of the police car.

My breathing stutters at the sight of my father. It's been so, so long...

Charlie adjusts the shiny badge pinned to his shirt. He preferred to dress casually at home, but he always kept his uniform in tip-top shape. A few steps is all it takes for him to arrive at the driver's side door. He raps at the window. The driver rolls it down. I cannot identify this person. Their face remains strangely blurred. A murmured conversation takes place. I hear only one word clear as day.

"Taillight," Charlie says.

All the air in my lungs escapes at once. I know what this is now. Somehow I have been brought to the exact moment when a broken taillight changed the Swan family forever.

"Dad! Forget about the taillight. You've got to go. Please, just leave!"

Charlie ignores my warning. He continues to speak with the driver as though I am not around.

Why doesn't he react to what I said? I have to stop this before it's too late!

I lurch forward but go nowhere. My feet are glued to the road, refusing to budge. I yell; I scream. Nothing I do matters. I am kept in place, useless and unheard.

Here it is. The moment I have dreaded takes place. Charlie reaches for his radio. While he is distracted, the driver whips out something small but deadly.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The car speeds away. Charlie wobbles a couple of steps. With nothing to grab hold of, he collapses onto the asphalt. Rivulets of blood seep from his neck wound. More stains his shirt. His breathing turns progressively shallow.

Then, nothing.

"No! Get up, Dad. Please, get up!"

An invisible force seizes my shoulders and shakes. Try as I might, I can't fight it off. My screams intermix with another sound. Muffled at first, I begin making out a single word, repeated multiple times.

"Bella. Bella!"

My eyelids fly open. Confusion reigns as I look in every direction. I'm in bed. A hut made of stone and clay surrounds me. The fire burns with a muted light, casting dancing shadows across the face of the man standing over me. Ewar has a firm grip on both of my shoulders. Undoubtedly, he was the invisible "force" shaking me.

I release a heavy breath. This isn't Forks. I didn't really see my father being gunned down. I'm still trapped in the Stone Age. And, you know what? I am relieved.

This is the textbook definition of an abrupt turnaround.

I sit up in bed. "I'm sorry," I sniff. "Did I wake you?"

Ewar lets go of my shoulders but doesn't immediately answer my question. He tilts his head, staring down at my watery eyes. "Sad?"

I swallow. To deny it would be ludicrous. The evidence is right in front of him. "I... Yes, I guess I am."

"Why?"

"It's nothing. Just a nightmare."

"Nightmare?"

I lay my cheek against the back of my hand, feigning sleep. "Dream. Bad, bad dream."

He makes a face and nods. This he understands. But explaining away my current mood as being caused solely by a nightmare doesn't feel right. Ewar has done so much for me. The least I can do is tell him the truth.

I crawl to the end of the bed, searching my basket of belongings. With the phone in hand, I turn it on and check the screen. Even with it shut off most of the time, the phone's system uses power. There's less than 15 percent battery remaining. That's not enough to last the time I have left before I can go home.

Might as well use it instead of letting it go to waste.

I scoot to where the bed meets the wall and lean back. Aiming my eyes at Ewar, I pat the spot next to me. "Sit."

His eyebrows jump to his hairline. I've never invited him to sit on the bed with me. He lowers himself cautiously, his gaze never leaving my face.

After everything we've gone through together, does he seriously think I'm going to change my mind and kick him off the bed?

To put his mind at ease, I distract him with my phone. I head directly to the photos. Scenes from my life pass before his astonished eyes. What must he be thinking, to see these fabulous things from the distant future?

It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for. "My friend Angela took this picture of me," I explain. "I don't like the face I was making, but I'm glad I have it now."

The image was captured at my high school graduation. I'm in my cap and gown. The second person in the photo has their arm slung around me in a half hug.

Ewar jabs a finger toward the screen. "Who is man?"

"My dad."

"Dad?"

"Eh, sorry. I forgot you don't know that word yet."

I think back to the times I heard Alie call for her father. She never said "Arl", his given name. She would always say...

"Uh. Atta?" Their language has strange vocal fluctuations. I hope I said it right.

Ewar's stony expression lightens. "Atta... Dad!"

My smile is bittersweet. "Yes. That was my dad."

He leans closer, comparing the man in the photo to the girl next to him. Charlie was a few inches taller than me and had curlier hair. But he and I shared a similar coloring and a discomfort at smiling for the camera, so it's pretty obvious we are related. In this picture, Charlie had no trouble whatsoever at expressing his joy. His daughter had graduated. She would soon be on her way to a well-known university in a foreign country, a first in the family. My normally antisocial father told everyone he could the news. He was so proud that day.

I scroll quickly to another image stored on my phone: my father, lying in his casket at the funeral home. A distant cousin at the time called me morbid for taking the photo. I ignored the criticism. Who would want their last memory of Charlie to be the one of him in the hospital, all bloodied and forever silent? Not me. At least in the casket, he looked merely asleep.

Another tear glides down my cheek. Ewar glances between my face and the photo several times. Recognition dawns. Is it Charlie's closed eyelids which tipped him off that something was wrong, or my dad's abnormally pale complexion?

"That's right, Ewar," I whisper into the night. "My dad is dead."

"Dead." He repeats the word like it's a bad taste on his tongue.

Unable to look at the photo any longer, I focus on the fire. "I was at home when I got the call Dad had been shot. I rushed to the hospital, hoping it was just a flesh wound." I shake my head. "I never even got the chance to say goodbye. I guess that's why, every so often, I'll have a nightmare about what it must have been like for him to die that way. It's not fun, trust me."

I huff through my nose, laughing without humor. "He would have hated his funeral. It was so formal, so solemn. No mention of the things he loved or his favorite sports teams. The people speaking focused on his 'bravery' in confronting that piece of shit bastard and nothing else. But what's brave about pulling over someone who had a broken taillight? Dad wasn't a reckless man. If he had known the driver was wanted in Seattle for armed robbery - or that the car was stolen - he sure as hell wouldn't have confronted the guy without having a weapon at the ready."

Long suppressed sorrow threatens to steal my ability to speak. I refuse to surrender to it. I meet Ewar's gaze, forcing myself to finish. "That's what hurt the most. Everyone kept calling him a hero, but all I wanted was to have my dad back."

For a time, Ewar remains absolutely still. Then, as though a spell has been broken, he leans forward to touch my face. I don't even flinch, a testament to the trust he has built. A single teardrop is collected on the pad of his finger. He studies it in the fire's glow, turning it this way and that.

His eyes flick up without warning. Something has changed within them. He inches closer. His finger returns to my wet cheek. It brushes over my skin, moving in unpredictable patterns.

"W-what are you doing?" I sputter.

"Eye water," he says while spreading the tears across my skin. "Paint. Bad dream go."

I blink rapidly in succession, my brain working overtime trying to figure out what he might be talking about. In due time, it clicks.

"You're drawing mystic symbols on my face to keep my nightmares away?" I manage to smile. "So I'm just a canvas to you now, huh?"

Ewar hums, not really paying attention to my words. Most of his concentration is devoted to drawing. I close my eyes, enjoying the tickling sensation a little too much.

At last, his hand leaves my face. The task is complete. He breathes a sigh. "Sleep," he says, though it sounds more like an order.

I shake my head. "No. Not yet. I'd rather look through these pictures while I can."

He sends me a reproachful glower. It's late and he must be tired. But does he leave and go to bed himself? Nope. He stays right there beside me and watches my old photos flick by on the screen. Occasionally he points and asks for a person's name; other times it's to know the word for a certain object. Mostly, however, he keeps quiet and only observes. It allows me to look back at the life I made in the distant future without interruption.

A frown gradually spreads across my face.

Not a single image of my mom exists on this phone. Had it truly been so long since we last saw one another? She couldn't go to my graduation, nor could she support me during Charlie's funeral due to work obligations. She was supposed to visit me before I moved to London, but she had to cancel last minute when Phil caught the flu. It saddens me that she and I have neglected our bonding time. We will have to make it up to one another when I return.

I scroll through more photos. The last picture taken appears on the screen. It's that snake-in-the-grass Ora and his father, the leader of the Soul Eaters. Ewar makes a sound somewhere between surprise and horror. Next thing I know, he's reaching for my phone, eyes narrowed with hatred.

"Harganu!"

I stuff the phone behind my back. "Calm down, Ewar. It's only a picture! Ora isn't here." I hold up the phone again. Ewar glares murderously at the image of the two Soul Eaters. I press delete. "Look! They're gone now."

Ewar gapes at how quickly ol' Snake-eyes's face disappeared from the screen. He looks at me, eyebrows lifting optimistically. "Ora dead?"

"No. That's not how it works. Don't you remember what Alistair and I told you? A photo can't steal your soul, Ewar. I can change and erase it as much as I want without it affecting anyone in real life. Watch this."

I capture a picture of ourselves with the front-facing camera and open it into a photo editing app. Ewar's eyes grow large as our faces come into view on the screen. They widen further when the app alters the image, changing my hair to neon pink. He checks several times to make sure my hair in real life is the same brown he has always known.

"See? I took our picture and we still have our souls, don't we? Nothing has changed, so there's nothing to worry about. Understand?"

My calm manner of speaking does the trick. He leans back once again to observe. His hands, however, remain tightly fisted. I guess he isn't a hundred percent convinced. He doesn't relax fully until I delete our picture entirely from existence.

Oh well. Rome wasn't built in a day.

I go back to scrolling through the phone, this time scrutinizing the videos and pics I took when I first arrived in London two years earlier. Everything then was new and exciting. I documented so much. And the most recent months? There's nothing except a couple of pictures taken from inside my apartment - and both were to prove to the landlord that the plumbing under the kitchen sink needed to be fixed. Ugh. When did I get so boring? It's been eat, work, study and not much else for far too long.

Reminder: Find a hobby when I get back home. And go outside once in a while. I don't want to become known as the weird neighborhood recluse.

A puff of warmth blows into my ear. I whip my head around and find the very last thing I expect to see: Ewar, mouth half opened, is lost in dreamland.

Wow. My photos are so boring, they even put a caveman to sleep.

Holding in a giggle, I glance from him to his sleeping mat on the floor. He is a large man. Dragging him all the way over there would be impossible without waking him up. But that's not my only excuse for letting him go on sleeping here. That nightmare was too realistic. I'm not ready to be alone.

I make a snap decision. Ewar and I will share the bed tonight.

Friends do that sometimes. Right?

He fell asleep against the wall, ensuring that he will wake up with a stiff neck by morning. I take pity and stretch him out into a more comfortable position on the bed. His eyes stay glued shut the entire time. I sit back on my heels and sigh at what lies before me. Gosh, he takes up a lot of room. Someone needs to tell him he needs a bigger bed if he wants to have a happy wife one day.

I crawl to the empty spot beside him. I roll on my side, highly amused by the situation.

His face is right there.

My smile gets wiped clean away. I don't find things quite as funny anymore.

I think back to how I first met him. His scruffy beard and dirt-encrusted fingernails made him seem like a wild animal to my modern eyes. Appearances, as the saying goes, can be deceiving. Underneath the layers of hair and filth was a good-hearted man. He is more deserving of the title "Human" than many of the people I know back home. And after a good scrubbing and shave, his face isn't too bad to look at either.

Ok, ok. That was an understatement. There's a very good reason why I can't stop staring at him.

Like magnets, my fingertips are drawn to his face. They meet the forehead that wrinkles when he is lost in thought and the cheeks that spread wide when he smiles. I go on to trace his eye sockets and the outline of his nose, pausing momentarily at the bridge. Was his nose broken before? It feels slightly askew. I peer closer, searching for other signs of injury. I find none. The small imperfection adds character to an otherwise handsome face.

My fingertips glide down, down, down, arriving at the small indentation above his lips. Even though he shaved, the skin here is rougher than elsewhere. It reminds me of sandpaper. No wonder he has a perpetual five o'clock shadow. His facial hair grows back fast.

My eyes travel south to his lips. My fingers itch to know what they feel like. Soft? Hard? Somewhere in between? But before I make contact with them, something about my feather-light touch must feel more like a tickle to him. Ewar wiggles his face in his sleep, as though a housefly was bothering him. He doesn't even open his eyes.

But mine have been.

With a gasp, I jerk my hand away. What has gotten into me? I don't have the right to touch him, especially when he is asleep! Stick with exploring your own body, Ms Magellan.

Disgusted with myself, I put as much space between us as I can. Sadly, this bed is tiny, and my hormones take up more room than I was aware. I don't trust myself anymore.

On the verge of hyperventilation, I force myself to take slower breaths. I eventually calm down enough to think about this logically. I ask myself a simple question.

Was this situation truly unexpected?

Ewar and I are two reasonably attractive adults living in close quarters. Of course there's going to be some sexual tension from time to time! However, seeking relief from Ewar is out of the question. It would be wrong to use him that way. I mean, look at him. If he wanted meaningless sex, it wouldn't be hard for him to find someone willing to give it. But that's not what he is looking for. He wants a wife, kids, the whole works - not a FWB named Bella.

I've got, what? Five more months, then I'll be out of here forever. I can control myself for that long. Ewar will probably have himself a sexy new wife lined up by then. As for me, I guess I'll just have to download a dating app like Tinder when I get home. There's got to be at least one guy on there who isn't a skeevy neckbeard...

Da-ding.

The electronic ping interrupts my internal rambling. I glance at the device laying forgotten on the bed.

My phone has officially run out of battery.

Placing it in the palm of my hand, I stare unblinking at the black screen. Hard truths come to mind. The phone is dead. Everything on it will be inaccessible for months to come.

I am oddly underwhelmed.

The phone gets stored away in the basket. I slip underneath the blankets, careful to not disturb my bed buddy. It is a success. Maintaining a safe distance from him isn't easy, but his close proximity is my reward. The warmth he is exuding is heavenly. It spreads through my body, seeping out the tension in each joint and limb.

This time when my eyelids grow heavy, I surrender to sleep willingly.

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A/N-

Sorry about the lack of updates. The website has been glitchy for almost a month. Stats are down. Stories and reviews vanish and reappear randomly. It's a big mess. I was planning on posting this chapter once it was fixed, but it's starting to look like that won't be happening anytime soon. Grr. Hopefully, the stars will align and you guys will see this update.

Bella invited Ewar to her bed. Progress, perhaps? People who review can coach her on what to do next. She's kind of clueless sometimes.

Thanks for reading. :-)