The camp was strangely quiet, an odd tension hanging in the air, and a flash of red caught his eye. Blinking to adjust to the flickering light of their fire, a growl caught in his throat when he realized a collection of clothes was hanging by the flames, Kagome's robes amongst them.
If her clothes had been soiled, she would be wearing the monk's outer layer again.
The man raised his hand in greeting as if to taunt him. As if the cool lavender of his kesa wasn't wrapped around his intended's form. Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, intent on relieving the monk of one of his limbs, but Kagome stepped between them, offering him that soft smile, fingers playing with the end of her sleeves.
Sleeves? The monk's robes did not have sleeves.
"Welcome back," she murmured. Her fingers were clasped tightly together, but her head was held high, and he finally took in her appearance, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.
She was wearing his symbol.