“Notice what?”
“When I left in the mornings.”
“Yes.”
“Every time?”
“Every time.”
“Oh.”
He waited. That was another thing he was learning. Silence did not always need to be filled. She would speak when she was ready. Her fingers traced an idle path through the fur on his chest as she sorted through whatever was going on in her head.
“Did it hurt?”
He could have avoided the answer. Once, he would have. He would have told her that her comfort was all that mattered, that he understood, that he expected nothing. All of those things were true. They were also not the answer to the question she’d asked.
“Yes, little one.”
Her fingers stopped moving, but he made himself continue.
“I understood why you left. But I wished you would stay.”
She lifted her head and looked up at him.
“You never said anything.”
“No.”
“Because you thought saying it would pressure me.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now I am trying not to decide what you can bear hearing.”
A slow smile curved her mouth.
“Good. You’re making progress.”
“I am glad you approve.”
“I do.” She pushed herself upright, taking half the furs with her. “Although I reserve the right to yell at you again if you backslide.”
“I assumed you would.”
She laughed, and the sound filled the sleeping cave. He wanted to grab her and pull her beneath him. He wanted to spend the entire morning learning exactly how many other sounds he could coax from those pretty little lips. Before he gathered the courage to make a move, someone pounded on the outer door.
She groaned and collapsed dramatically back onto the furs.
“Don’t answer it.”
He almost agreed, but the pounding came again.
“Clan Leader!”
“Duty,” he said.
