𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘

          And wait she does, for just a moment longer. She has gotten bold in thinking that he will show himself to her every time she seeks him — or maybe he is simply a sucker, and she has simply picked up on that by now. Even so, he makes her wait, until her shoulders shake with shivers, until she starts to think that he really isn’t coming — only when she thinks this does she feel the fur of his mantle put over her shoulders. Only then does she feel his fire-warmed fingertips glide over her neck as he sweeps hair away to place a lasting kiss. 

          “ I did no such thing, ”     His smile betrays him, although he never really meant to make her believe his words. He knows well what he did, that she was able to catch him so off guard like that. He is proud — maybe she can see it in the twinkling of his eyes. 

          Anyone else and Einár may not be so… patient isn’t the word — amused, maybe? Brows pinch together, his lips curling into a smile — what is he on about? Einár does not say this, though, instead electing to pacify his guest with a drink. For now. He’s heard the tales, seen some of them play out from the sidelines. He knows what may happen.

          Maybe he should have seen it coming. He had noticed that look in her eyes but thought nothing of it at first. As the frigid water hits his bare body he can’t help the yelp that leaves him — caught off guard. Surprised. Delighted. 

It’s as if the beast inside of him, that slumbered too lazily while they laid in the pool of furs on the deck, has reawakened once more. He swims to the surface, only to watch her plunge into the water herself, but as she breaches the surface to gasp for air he’s upon her. Strong legs work tirelessly to keep them both afloat as he pulls her close to his body, strong fingers jabbing her sides for clumsy tickles. 

           A kiss she will have — he lets the furs fall from his shoulders , cascading into a heap on the deck. His hair falls around his neck and shoulders, curtaining his face with dark, wild locks. 

She’s kissed, soft and hungry, gentle and intense as he always is with her. He has half a mind to push her in now, watch her squeal as she goes, and for a moment he reaches up to act on it — but he doesn’t. Instead his hand rests to cup her face. 

It's pitch-dark, the land looks far away and the moon's light bounces off the little ripples of the waves as far as the eye can see.

          Lazy, half lidded eyes look out to the water that laps lazily against the hull of his ship. The water is smooth, ripples reflecting what little light his ship’s candles cast out into the darkness. It’s calm, he feels like a baby rocked in a cradle by his ocean mother, bare and swaddled in fur. He retracts his arms from around her, Leitandi sturs from deeper within the pile of fur blankets.

          His rough fingers card through her silky, long hair, one hand never leaving her waist. He take a moment to appreciate her — the smell of her perfume and the way for dappled forest light reflects in her eyes. He forgets himself for a moment, leaning down to kiss her with a hunger rarely afforded to others, and even when he pulls away that hunger is still in his eyes. He devours her with his gaze. 

         “ I’m glad you came, ”     Einár’s lips curl into a smile — he has always found it so charming how polite she is despite the hunger that lives so deep inside.  He decides against telling her that he knows of her dream. He knows of most of them. And he decides not to tell her that some of them are sent to her, like the one last night. Warm, large hands run down the small of her back.

         The trees carry her voice to him. He feels the throb of her heart through the roots in the ground — he’s proud to see how she has connected herself so easily with the woods now. With him. He spreads his wings and takes to the sky, where the leaves on the trees point him to her. He descends upon her in a cloud of crows, his feathers receding back into his cloak as large, strong arms wrap around her waist to pull her close. Her skin is warm against his body, and he smiles. 

It’s a literal prayer. She has made her offerings, she has wandered along paths of clover and laid down against the moss, she knows him. Willow, though she has forgotten her name, knows that Einar will come - that he will hear her and find her. But for now she runs.

A hand on her shoulder pulls her down. Pushes her against the forest floor and crushes her. Anger that smells like cinnamon. She hits her head on the way down and screams a guttural scream as she remembers what is about to happen now that she’s been caught. Another hit across the face. She gasps, stunned. She takes another hit. And another.

Calloused hands grip her throat and her jaw, forcing her to look. There are three attackers above her now, spinning, and she’s frightened. So frightened that her vision slips from her, her mind stretches and snaps into place. Clarity. Finally.

          His feet could not move him fast enough to be at her side, so he took to the skies in a hurry and sensing his urgency the forest parted for him. Trees moved their branches, bushes leaned to the side. Hosts of crows and coyotes followed in his wake as he sought to find Willow. 

And find her he did, as well as the other. The unwanted. Violent and nasty, taking what he doesn’t deserve. Fury was the natural response. Fury was a kinder word for the hatred that bubbled violently within Einár. He debated taking care of the problem right then and there, when Willow’s attacker tries to run from the mess he has made — but he stops himself. No, this is not his fury to deliver.

So with Willow slung over his shoulder and a leash made of a leather belt placed chokingly firm around Adam’s neck, Einár retreated further into the woods, yipping coyotes nipping at the heels of Adam to keep him moving forward.