Then, not stopping to think about what I do, not stopping to doubt or to question, I strip off my own damp shirt. Pull her against me. Rest her head against my shoulder, her back against my chest. Wrap my arms around her. Holding her, rocking her, as the fire grows and crackles on the grate. If I could, I would let all the warmth and life in me flow into her. As it is, I give all I can; no magic, no glamours. Just my own body heat and my urgent, defiant will.
