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Someone looking in might think them lovers, the naked girl cradling a crying man. The truth is that they are just two shades of the same loneliness, friends in commonality, holding each other through the storm.
“You know what they say – keep the violent, ax-wielding females close.”
Dawsyn grins. “I am but a damsel.” “Ah, but you’re not even close, are you? Damsels do not survive a mountain like that, and they do not hide axes beneath their cloaks.”
“What happened to keeping your distance?” She hears his deep sigh, feels it skitter off her ear. “I’m finding that to be increasingly difficult.”
He cannot have just her body and not become starved for the rest of her.
