now the first was against her fur, her skin warming to his touch in shock and delight and wariness --
i am here, samo.
her voice shook, for he had not forgotten her name. the sound of it spoken. her eyes shut, but the tears that pressed against them, she did not allow to fall.
a welling of hurt instead, but she did not pull away. elk charm possessed no blame, yet to her heart it was simple: he had left her. there was no formal pledge, nor even utterance. only the play of their gazes against one another, the way the tension had risen, fallen, within the wetu. then, she was militsik and simple observation of the taboo formed a proper boundary.
now -- now there was nothing to hold her from turning into samo, from letting her breath find the scars upon his face, but she did not.
elk charm was afraid.
and yet with his return, he restored some measure of hope. to grapple with an appearance she had not expected -- she was glad to hold him, to be held, to keep her face unseen for now.
