We sipped our cocoa and shared cookies while the snow-covered forest stretched around us. The intimacy of the moment felt almost unbearable. Just the two of us in this winter wonderland, sharing something I’d made with my own hands.
“Your turn to explain an orc tradition,” I said.
“Clan gatherings. Story circles around the steaming-hot pools. Contests of strength and skill.” His voice took on the softer quality it always did when he talked about his home. “Everyone contributes something. Food, stories, crafted items.”
“It sounds like such a good time. A giant family reunion. Do you miss it?”
“I miss the certainty of belonging somewhere, of knowing your place in the community.”
The honesty in his voice made my heart ache. “You belong here now.”
“Do I?”
“Of course you do. Everyone loves you. The whole town considers you family.”
“What about you?”
The question hung between us, loaded with implications I wasn’t ready to examine. “I consider you…” I swallowed hard. “Important.”
“Important.”
“Very important.”
Something flickered in his dark eyes. “I guess that’s good to know.”
I turned away to pack up our supplies, hiding the flush spreading across my face. After placing the bag near the axe, I returned to Becken, who was examining the trunk, muttering about how it might not fit in the stand Tark had prepared.
I took in the tree and giddiness bubbled up inside me and spun in a circle, laughing at the sky, then threw myself backward into a pile of fresh snow.
“Snow angel,” I announced, moving my arms and legs to create the classic shape. “Come on, you have to try it.”
“You’re floundering in the snow for no practical purpose.”
“It’s fun. Remember what that feels like?” Rising, I eased around him and flopped back into a fresh snowy area to make another.
He stood over me, shaking his head but smiling. “This is ridiculous.”
“Come on. Try it. For me?”
He sighed dramatically and stepped toward the open area beside me.
“Like this?” His foot hit something, and he fell, landing beside me in an ungraceful sprawl that sent snow flying everywhere.
I gasped through my laughter. “That was dignified.”
“Snow angels are a hazardous tradition,” he grumbled, but he was smiling.
We lay side by side, looking up at the sky, our breath mingling in small clouds. The world felt hushed around us, intimate and perfect.
“This is nice,” I said softly.
“It’s cold.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He turned to look at me, snow dusting his dark hair and making his skin look even more striking. “Yes, it is.”
When I met his gaze, I saw heat there that had nothing to do with staying warm. The awareness that had been building between us all day crystallized into something I couldn’t define.
