Blood Ties

The arena was as quiet and still as a breath held before a plunge. In her peripheral vision Morwyn saw Yvonne's head twitch toward her at the sound of her voice then follow her finger to the sky. She too raised a hand to point and repeated the single word with awed inflection. Others began to follow suit, pointing out the shapes to each other and the little ones who gasped and chattered with excitement before being hushed by their parents. They lowered their hands one by one and waited with anxious anticipation to see what would become of them. Morwyn heard more than one concerned whisper shared amongst her fellows, but she was too enamored with the sight to pay much mind.

“As much as I have enjoyed spending time with you in this form,” Rennock chuckled while gesturing to himself, “I do believe it is time to stretch my wings.”

Morwyn's gaze locked on to the old man as he crouched low to the ground and leapt twenty, thirty, no, forty feet or more straight up into the air, his wiry form glowing with a brilliant golden light as he did so. When the light became too much to bear she covered her eyes with her free hand before quickly squinting past it to witness whatever was to come. The light dimmed and suddenly she found herself battered by a hurricane of wind as a gigantic beast covered in gleaming golden scales stretched its wings wide enough to blot out the sun. It thrust them down over and again to rise higher and higher above the crowd, sending dust flying and clothing flapping with each powerful gust.

The golden dragon hovered in the air above them for a moment as he craned down his long, serpentine neck and swept his massive head back and forth to survey the reaction of the caravaneers. Apparently not satisfied by their shock, he opened his maw wide to expose a phalanx of long, wickedly serrated teeth and a thrashing tongue that tasted the air to appropriate gasps from the astonished newcomers. Rennock dipped his head low to them in a bow before angling it upward, mouth agape. A rumbling roar that reverberated within Morwyn's chest began deep in Rennock's throat and, when unleashed in its full glory, echoed across the land before a gout of white-hot flame burst forth into the air. Though far below him now, Morwyn could still feel the heat of the blazing breath on her face.

“Gods above...” she heard Hazel say in a choked gasp, her eyes fixed with the utmost intensity on the creature that had once been a scrawny old wizard to them all. Recovering quickly from her initial surprise, Morwyn shook her head and watched on with a wry smile as the great beast that was her friend flew toward his kin and circled them in joyous loops and dives as their formation scattered. Many of her peculiar interactions with Rennock settled into place in her mind. With the power of hindsight, she realized it would have shocked her more if the old coot hadn't been a dragon.

During their aerial display, Morwyn noted the different colors of each of the fantastic creatures. Another gold dragon, slightly smaller than Rennock, circled above them wingtip to wingtip with him. A trio of red, blue, and green, far smaller in size, chased each other playfully above the crowd to the cheers of the onlookers. Morwyn was startled to see that at least half of the remaining dragons, all of various metallic shades and colorful hues, bore riders astride large saddles strapped to the bases of their long necks just in front of their massive wings.

Morwyn looked about for her fellow guards as a multitude of questions suddenly crashed into her mind in a confusing mess of fragmentary thoughts. Argoth caught her eye first and she made to push through the excited crowd toward him but stopped when the big orc left their little circle at the center of the arena and distanced himself, cracking his neck and stretching his arms over his head to loosen his shoulders. He looked up to the sky and squinted with his one crimson eye with intense focus, crouching low as if preparing to begin a sprint.

“Bloody hells, she's comin' in fast this year,” he shouted, followed by a roar of encouragement from the citizens of the Vale. Finding herself beside Eronir, Trux, and Yvonne at the edge of the group, Morwyn set Hazel down in front of her and laid her hands on her shoulders as she watched on, holding her close as the halfling nearly vibrated with concern.

“What in the name of the gods is that man about to do?” Hazel asked nervously as she wrung her hands.

“Oh, you'll see,” Eronir chuckled, pointing toward the end of the valley. “They do this every time they're reunited. It's a wonder Argoth still has all of his limbs.”

“What do you-” Morwyn began to ask, but stopped when she saw a huge black shape in the midst of a breakneck dive. It accelerated at an unbelievable pace in a nearly vertical arc, spread its huge black wings at the last moment, and barreled onward no more than a dozen feet above the ground as it wove between pillars and beneath arches of red stone. The dragon, nearly as large as Rennock, was as black as the void and seemed little more than a blur as it flew straight for the arena.

Nodding to himself, Argoth turned about and began to sprint directly away from the dark shape. He thundered across the hard-packed earth and leapt onto a table, scattering plates and goblets and dishes of food to cries of protest from those seated there, using it as a step to gain even more height with another powerful jump. At the apex of his arc, the black dragon shot over the crowd in a blur and Argoth disappeared. Morwyn's heart skipped a beat before she remembered that, though he was undoubtedly a mad old bastard, Argoth truly lived for such things.

The great black beast flared its midnight wings to arrest its momentum and swooped upward in a full circle with Argoth seated firmly in the saddle on its neck before tapering off and flapping slowly past. He rode with only his knees as his arms raised above his head in triumph, and the crowd roared their approval in response.

“Argoth is a dragon rider?” Morwyn whispered incredulously as she leaned in toward Eronir, cringing as she remembered all the times she'd made jokes at his expense. She wondered if he would pass that information on to his fearsome friend. The elf dipped his head in acknowledgment, but she noted a brief flicker of sadness cross his features.

“That's his business to discuss, not mine. But yes, Shivara allows him to ride. They especially like to put on a show for newcomers.”

“What about you and Trux? Are you...?”

“Absolutely not,” Trux replied with a hearty laugh. “If you remember Argoth's little stunt on the mountain, we dwarves like to keep our feet planted firmly on the ground. They are beautiful beasts, though. And by the Beard can they sniff out gems and precious metals like none other.”

“Neither am I,” Eronir said in turn. “A dragon-bond is quite rare even here with the highest concentration of dragons in the known world, but even so my talents and interests lie elsewhere.”

“What... what exactly is it that you do when you're not on the trail?” Morwyn asked tentatively. Her mind was flooded with questions about her companions now that the requirement for secrecy had certainly passed.

“I'd very much like to know as well,” Yvonne said softly, smiling at Eronir as she slipped an arm around his waist. “Would it be... unprofessional to request that I follow the same path?”

“And will we be expected to treat the dragons as well?” Hazel chimed in, grinning from ear to ear as she held her hands clasped over her chest. “If so, who will teach us? Is it Master Kerren? Who is Master Kerren anyway? Can I meet him? I have so many questions already-”

“Nope. Nope. Absolutely not,” Trux scolded them with a frantic wave of her hands. “This beanpole and I have been on the road for a bloody year, we're not talkin' work for at least a week. Besides, it's almost time for the feast to begin. Come, let's get everyone seated. I'm starvin' half to death!”

After several minutes of chaos and confusion, Morwyn found herself seated at a table on the inner ring directly facing the arena with Hazel at her side and welcoming strangers all around. They'd been deliberately dispersed in order to encourage them to interact with the community. It was a tailor-made nightmare for Morwyn, who wanted nothing more than to find a quiet place and breathe into a bag, but Hazel was more than happy to speak enough for the two of them. Morwyn simply dug in to a plate piled high with delicious food and watched on with amusement as the halfling regaled half a dozen complete strangers with tales of their journey. Every story was told true, though Morwyn thought Hazel had a tendency to overly dramatize and embellish both Morwyn's actions as well as the carnage. Several of those at the table with weaker stomachs paled at the halfling's penchant for gruesome detail.

Catching a familiar silhouette out of the corner of her eye, Morwyn glanced up to see Rennock approach in his human form once again. He was accompanied by a tall, slender, graceful woman in dark blue robes with her gray hair tied up neatly in a severe bun, though her face was just as kind and welcoming as Rennock's if less wrinkled. It was easy for Morwyn to catch the family resemblance from up close even if she hadn't seen the two of them cavorting in the sky as a matching pair of golden dragons.

“Miss Shrike, Miss Willowbend,” Rennock greeted them warmly, “I would like to introduce you to my sister, Hela. She and I are two members of the Council of Five, though we will spare you the details of how the Vale operates until you are settled in to your new home.”

“Pleasure,” Hela said, her voice as smooth and refined as her mannerisms. She extended an elegant hand to Hazel first. “My brother has told me a great deal about the two of you. I am grateful that you were able to get him to take his medicine, Miss Willowbend, not even I have that power. He says that you are one of singular talent when it comes to healing. We welcome you with open arms.”

Morwyn was almost as shocked to see Hazel blush and make humble platitudes in response to Hela's greeting as she had been to discovering an enclave of dragons. When she turned her gaze on Morwyn, however, she understood the inclination. Hela's piercing gaze was not a match for her brother's, but far surpassed it. The golden brown of her eyes seemed to draw her in while simultaneously reading every thought she'd ever had. Rennock's stare was uncanny. His sister's was downright otherworldly. It raised the hair on the back of Morwyn's neck.

“And Miss Shrike, of course. My brother has told me all about you. Not just a warrior, but a promising young mage as well. I will watch your progression with great interest. We welcome you with open arms.” Hela reached out her hand and Morwyn took it in a firm but gentle grip. She could feel the power radiating from this woman through the contact, which she quickly released.

Of course she's powerful, she's a damn dragon. Don't be rude!

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well,” Morwyn stammered before finding her voice, hoping that neither Rennock nor his sister could actually read her thoughts without invitation. “I have deep respect for Rennock and extend the same to his family. He has helped me a great deal and I look forward to repaying that debt.”

Morwyn cringed internally when she realized that she'd been unconsciously mimicking Rennock and Hela's proper language and even their tone. Hela smiled kindly in return though Morwyn noticed it didn't reach the woman's eyes. Suddenly worried that she'd offended not only a dragon but the sister of her mentor, who also happened to be a dragon and her surrogate grandfather, Morwyn blushed deeply and looked down from Hela's intense gaze.

“Well then,” Rennock said, clapping his hands as if to dispel awkward moment like a spell gone awry, “we shall leave you to your well-deserved meal. Lady Elaura should be along shortly to- ah, there she is, assisting Gildur over there. She is the head of the Hospitality Guild and will have accommodations for you before the evening is through. Enjoy yourselves, Miss Shrike, Miss Willowbend. This is only the first night of the festivities, many more to come!”

Morwyn held her breath until the ancient siblings were on the entire opposite end of the arena making introductions with other members of the caravan, whereupon she let it out a long exhale as she released the tension that had built up in her. She placed a hand on Hazel's knee beneath the table and gave a shuddering laugh.

“She's rather intense, isn't she?”

“You could say that again,” Hazel murmured into a goblet of fragrant spiced wine. “I thought she was about to turn me inside out with those eyes of hers.”

One of the others at their table, a rather portly fellow with a cheery disposition and a receding hairline- Gerald, or Gerard, Morwyn thought- leaned in and whispered to the pair conspiratorially.

“Y'know, I'd love to tell you that you get used to it, but you really don't. They're all like that, dragons. But they're good folk... even if Councilor Hela does give me the willies.” The last line he whispered even further under his breath, followed by several furtive nods. He sat back a bit and gave them a big smile, one that reminded Morwyn of the gruff old barkeep Thoren that had set her on this journey. “Bah, don't let an old fool's rambling get to you. Anyone who's made it here can handle themselves, of course! Why, back in my day...”

Morwyn gave him a distracted smile and raised her goblet in toast before tuning him out. Not out of ill will, but from having so many other things competing for her attention. Argoth was play-wrestling with the three smallest and presumably youngest dragons. The daunting black one, Shivara, sat like the world's largest cat with one massive, clawed forelimb draped over the other, watching on with what Morwyn assumed was amusement. It was difficult to discern the emotional state of a creature she hadn't known outside of museums and storybooks. The other dragons and their riders, or rather bonded as she'd been corrected a few times during her brief inquiries, kept to the edge of the festivities and occasionally allowed newcomers to approach and mingle with them while the unbonded dragons wandered about as they pleased. The dragons themselves appeared to be amicable enough, though she wondered why only Rennock and Hela deigned to appear in a humanoid form.

The citizens of the Vale were, as she'd expected, a motley assortment of people and creatures that appeared to come from all walks of life. Humans, elves, halflings, gnomes, dwarves, and various mixes between them all were understandably the most numerous as they made up the bulk of the continent's population, but she was slightly surprised to see no other orcs or half-orcs. Argoth stood alone in that regard as best she could tell. Beyond that were a fairly significant population of less common races, few of which she recognized. A dashing young satyr lay atop a table in front of several young ladies and played his lute while they giggled and fed him grapes. She saw what she thought may be a dryad but it was impossible to be certain as she'd only ever read about them.

Morwyn's stomach was heavy with food and her mind lulled by a combination of fatigue and drink by the time Lady Elaura made her way over to them. She was fairly tall for a human woman, perhaps an inch or two shorter than Morwyn, with round rosy cheeks and a mane of fiery red hair that stood out all the more for her layered green dress. Morwyn nudged Hazel beneath the table and nodded toward Elaura.

“Incoming,” she whispered, taking another pull from her goblet and savoring the mouthful of wine. “Let's hope this is the last introduction for the night, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment...”

Hazel gave her an understanding smile and rubbed a hand along Morwyn's back, scratching with her fingernails beneath the sword-belt that she'd foolishly kept on.

“Trust me, I feel the same. As soon as we have a home,” she said with a happy twinkle in her eyes, “we are going to politely excuse ourselves from this bloody kerfuffle. I would very much like to take a bath, unwind with you, and sleep for two or three days.”

Morwyn moaned in anticipatory pleasure at the mere thought of a bath that wasn't taken in a creek or pond or simply with a damp cloth. She'd been filthy plenty of times in her life but never for such an extended period of time. She figured she'd have to throw away her boots after taking them off that night and likely her clothes too, with the exception of Gildara's cloak. It was still unblemished from their long travels but even if it had been she wouldn't part with it while she was still breathing. It was too precious to replace, and not only to her.

“Hello, friends!”

Morwyn turned from Hazel to see Lady Elaura poised beside their table with a big book in her hands and a bigger smile on her face. The woman's enthusiastic greeting and sing-song voice, which normally might have set her teeth on edge, suddenly remind her of Hazel in a strange sort of way. She gave Elaura a polite smile and squeezed Hazel's hand beneath the table.

“Lady Elaura, Rennock told us you were coming. You're-”

“Head of the Hospitality Guild, yes, that's me! Here to take care of your housing needs and any other initial accommodations you might require before you're established in the community.” Elaura scooted a few dishes aside and set down her enormous ledger with a palpable thud and a sigh of relief. Morwyn noticed that their table-mates suddenly took immense interest in other events and quickly wandered off. “Whew, this thing sure is heavy! Ahem, where was I? Oh, yes! Welcome to the Vermilion Vale. I am Lady Elaura- not a title, my first name is actually Lady! Anywho, I am also the official Keeper of Records, which kind of works out with my other job, you know?”

“Oh, of course,” Morwyn said smoothly without missing a beat, fighting to keep a straight face when she felt Hazel's nails dig into her palm. She could see that the halfling's jaw was already firmly clenched in irritation at Lady's overly friendly and talkative demeanor. “Please, what can we do to make your job easier? I can see you've been working hard.”

Hazel clacked her teeth loud enough for Morwyn to hear.

“Oh my goodness, how considerate of you! That's so kind. It's a hard job, but somebody has to do it!” Lady heaved open the giant book and flipped through the pages with an intense expression of concentration for a completely inordinate amount of time. With each page that she turned Morwyn could feel Hazel tense more and more like a heavy spring compressed under a load. “Aha! There we go. I'm not sure where my bookmark went but it's really slowed down my work today. Yet ever onward we march! So, if I could just get a couple of personal details from each of you, that would be lovely. Starting with you, miss...?”

“Shrike. Morwyn Shrike,” she replied before finishing off the remainder of her wine to hide her smirk. “What sort of details do you need?”

“Ahem, yes, let's see here... age?”

“Seventy-six.”

Lady Elaura appeared to choke on her spit and her quill scratched across the parchment. She froze as still as a statue for a moment then cleared her throat softly behind one hand.

“My apologies, I think I swallowed a bug. How ghastly! Whew. Okay. Next question... professional skills?”

“Killing,” Morwyn replied evenly and Lady froze again. Hazel pursed her lips and looked away, presumably to conceal a smile. “Oh, right. Healing and herbalism as well. I'm supposed to apprentice with Master Kerren, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Lady replied, sweat visibly beading on her forehead. “We can never have too many healers around. Folk around here are, understandably, quite adventurous! You too, it seems, by the look of that big sword! Ahem. Anyway... um... marital status?”

“Unmarried,” Morwyn sighed wistfully, resting her chin on her palm and staring off into the distance. Hazel kicked her sharply beneath the table.

“Un... married...” Lady said under her breath as she scribbled in her book and a slight flush rose to her cheeks. Morwyn could feel Hazel roll her eyes without even looking. “Okay! Last few questions for now, relating to my other job as Head of the Hospitality Guild. Do you have a housing preference, and are there any accommodations you would like me to ensure are taken care of for you?”

Taking these questions more seriously, Morwyn cleared her throat and straightened up on the bench.

“Well, I'm not familiar with the layout of the Vale yet, but... I do enjoy a bit of solitude. If there are any cabins with a little privacy I'd much prefer that over a house in town. If there are any close to where Master Kerren works that would be perfect, though I don't mind a walk.” She fiddled with the end of her braid in thought, at a loss for what else to say. “Would fresh clothes and boots be considered accommodations?”

Lady Elaura positively beamed.

“I have just the home for you! Newly constructed in anticipation of your group's arrival, actually. Most folks like to be a bit closer to town, but I can tell you're more of the rugged individualist type, aren't you! I'll be sure to have some fresh clothing dropped off for you, but first let's take a look at the details of this cabin and see if it's a good fit!”

Morwyn took several deep breaths and maintained her pleasant demeanor as best she could. Hazel, on the other hand, had been taking frequent sips of her wine and her nose was starting to get a bit rosy.

“Oh, I'm sorry! There's already a note here from Rennock...” Lady visibly deflated as her finger traced along the line of neat script on the page. “Huh. Reserved for Morwyn Shrike and Hazel Willowbend. I'm ever so sorry, Miss Shrike! It looks like you'll have to share the cabin with a roommate for now until we can move you somewhere more private. Again, my sincerest apologies!”

Wine dribbled out of Hazel's mouth along with a snort of laughter. She quickly withdrew a handkerchief from a pocket on her dress and wiped her mouth daintily.

“No worries, Miss Lady,” Morwyn said as the corner of her mouth twitched upward involuntarily. “I'm sure we'll get along fine and if not, I know who to call upon.”

Lady gave her a very professional curtsy and her big smile returned, though a little forced. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her own handkerchief and withdrew a small sheet of blank parchment from her satchel, scribbled on it for a moment, then handed it to Morwyn alongside a brass key.

“Here you go, a map and key to your new home! Please, if there are any problems at all, do not hesitate to let me know! The Hospitality Guild takes our work very seriously.”

“I'm sure that you do,” Morwyn said graciously as she tucked the map and key into her pocket. “If that's all you need from me, is she next?”

“Oh dear, of course! How silly of me. May I have your name, miss...?”

Hazel cleared her throat and leaned in, pausing just long enough for Lady to look up from her book in mild confusion.

“Hazel Willowbend. Thirty-seven. Healer. Unmarried. And I believe my housing is accounted for already. I don't mind having a roommate.” She punctuated the final word with a pinch to Morwyn's thigh that very nearly made her yelp aloud, but she managed to hold it in.

Lady slowly closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, exhaled between parted lips, and set down her quill. She smoothed back her hair and pressed her hands together in front of her chest in a gesture of supplication. When she opened her eyes, it was as if an entirely different woman stood before them. She leaned on the table with both hands and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Her tone was low and even, tired, and apologetic.

“Ladies, I am so sorry. It's exhausting pretending to be a cheery bookkeeper and my mind is on the verge of unraveling. I apologize for the misunderstandings and I will make sure you've each got a fresh set of clothes delivered to your new home before nightfall.”

A twinge of guilt gnawed at Morwyn for tormenting the poor woman. She shared an embarrassed glance with Hazel, who grabbed the nearest bottle of wine without a word and filled her goblet to the brim. She slid it carefully across the table as far as she could reach and Morwyn pushed it the rest of the way.

“Oh, no, I really shouldn't...” Lady protested, rubbing her temples.

“Were we the last of the newcomers you needed to attend to?” Morwyn asked.

“Well... yeah.”

“And as the Head of the Hospitality Guild, do you have lackeys that can take care of the rest?” Hazel offered.

“I suppose I do.”

Morwyn pushed the goblet another inch closer to her. Lady looked at it with a grimace, glanced quickly over both shoulders, and downed the entire goblet in one go. She let out an impressive belch, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, tidied up her various accouterments, and heaved her giant book up onto one hip with a weary sigh.

“Thanks, I really needed that. Sorry for the bullshit. I'll make sure your home is ready for you. Welcome to the Vale, yadda yadda. Have a good night.”

The pair watched as Lady slogged tiredly away from the gathering, shoved her book into a small handcart, and pulled it down the dirt road and out of sight.

“Oh. My. Gods,” Hazel whispered, clutching at Morwyn's forearm and meeting her gaze with wide, sincere eyes. “I feel terrible for poor Lady.”

“Me too,” Morwyn agreed abashedly. “Perhaps I laid it on a bit thick, didn't I?”

“I'll say! You didn't have to flirt with her quite so much, you know.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, darling. Or is it... roommate?”

“You're impossible,” Hazel said, rolling her eyes. “Come, dear. Let's take a look at our new home, shall we?”

***

Morwyn groaned aloud as she sank into the steaming, soapy water of her first real bath in months. It had taken well over an hour to fill the large wooden tub with only an iron pot, a rain barrel, and a brick fireplace with which to work. Hazel had bemoaned not having access to her cauldrons but Morwyn hadn't minded the busywork. At the very least it had helped her familiarize herself with the little two-room cabin and its sparse yet serviceable furnishings. She didn't know when Rennock had found the time to make the recommendation but she was grateful for it, aside from one little thing that had nagged at her mind while she worked to draw the bath.

The bag of gold they'd found on the center of the bed alongside Rennock's welcome note irked her for some reason. She knew it shouldn't. She had earned the money after all. The sell-sword in her was not so far removed that she'd abandoned all practicality, yet at the same time it felt... tainted. Like she didn't deserve it, not after they'd lost so many people on her account. As she waited for Hazel to return from her secret 'errand', Morwyn toyed with the idea of giving it to the surviving family members. Some of it anyway, perhaps most, but not all. It wouldn't do to be broke before she even started her job and the Vale was clearly a town with some sort of economy, not some poor frontier hamlet.

She lazily opened her eyes to risk a peek toward the pot suspended over the crackling fire. It was high enough to get warm but not to boil dry if she dozed off for a moment. She didn't know how long Hazel would be and didn't want her to arrive to a cold bath. That would be downright unforgivable.

Morwyn's gaze drifted to the clay cup perched atop the table beneath the window, admiring the splash of pink in the dim candle-lit cabin. Other than how beautifully it was constructed, it reminded her a great deal of her humble little cabin back home on Skeldrûn. She closed her eyes again and could picture her creaky old bed, her old sword and bow hanging from wooden pegs by the door, the herbs Mother had picked for her drying above the window sill, the bucket she placed beneath the leak in the roof when it rained or snowed...

A part of her had been worried that she'd still feel restless at the journey's end, that after it all she would still feel out of place and her nomadic itch would set her feet to the road, but no more. She knew with a surety that this was where she belonged. In large part due to Hazel, but so many other reasons as well. This was where her life could really begin, where she could become who she wanted to be, not who she had to be or was expected to be.

The soft creak of the front door and the sound of light footfalls creeping along the floorboards brought a smile to her face as she melted deeper into the soothing water.

“Do I still have to keep my eyes closed?”

“Yes, just a moment longer, I promise,” Hazel replied softly, sounding a bit flustered and out of breath. “Sorry to keep you waiting, dear. I couldn't find my wagon and it was harder to find lavender than I expected, it doesn't grow wild here. I had to steal it from someone's garden.”

Morwyn laughed in disbelief but kept her eyes closed and ran her fingers through her hair as it drifted in the water. She sighed contentedly when Hazel sprinkled the tiny flowers across the surface of the water and the pleasant aroma reached her nose.

“How about now?”

“Be patient,” Hazel chided her gently. “I want to do this right. You only get one chance at a first impression, after all.”

Properly rebuked, Morwyn merely sighed and focused her breathing. She emptied her mind of the multitude of things that should be worrying her. In that moment she simply didn't care. She wanted to be present and not distracted by nagging doubts, unanswered questions, or looming threats. They would wait for her as they always did.

“Alright... ready as I'll ever be.” Hazel's voice was quiet, the way she got when she wasn't sure of herself. Morwyn's eyes fluttered open to find her standing at the end of the tub biting her lip, her auburn hair let down, wrapped in nothing but a towel. There was an uncertainty in her face that made Morwyn pause for a moment.

“Hazel... if you're not ready, I understand-”

In response, Hazel steeled her expression and dropped her towel to the floor.

“Oh. Okay,” Morwyn whispered, her pulse quickening. Her eyes roamed Hazel's bare form in the warm light of a dozen flickering candles. Heat flooded through her body that wasn't from the bath water. Hazel had lost weight in the final weeks of their journey, as had she, but that did nothing to diminish the way her gentle curves set Morwyn's body ablaze. She thought back to Lonely Harbor, to that first unwitting glimpse in the darkness, how stunned she'd been. It was nothing compared to how stunned she was now.

“You've already had one feast tonight, why do you look hungry all of a sudden?” Hazel teased as she shyly covered her breasts with her arms and stepped slowly around the tub to stand beside her.

“Suddenly I'm ravenous,” Morwyn replied, lifting a hand from beneath the water and tracing the back of her wet knuckles along the outside of Hazel's thigh. “I'm not sure I've ever eaten in my life, actually.”

Hazel shook her head with a smile, her ringlets bouncing playfully, and uncrossed her arms to take Morwyn's hand in her own. She looked down and rubbed the crimson scale with the pad of her thumb for a long moment.

“I never imagined that I could have this.”

For a moment Morwyn wasn't sure how to respond. She tilted her head up to try and meet Hazel's gaze, but the shadows of her hair hid her expression.

“What do you mean?”

Hazel sighed heavily then lifted Morwyn's hand and placed a tender kiss on the scale as she had once before.

“Intimacy. I just thought it wasn't in the cards for me.”

Morwyn raised a curious eyebrow.

“Really? You thought you could just exist within a thousand miles of me and I wouldn't take interest?”

“No, you big brute,” Hazel laughed, squeezing Morwyn's hand tightly. “I've never even had the opportunity to... to fall for someone, let alone...” She paused for a moment to gingerly test the water with a finger and, finding it satisfactory, took a deep breath and stepped into the tub between Morwyn's legs. Hazel shrugged her shoulders helplessly as she just stood there knee deep in the water. Morwyn giggled and placed her hands on Hazel's waist, slowly turned her around, and helped her settle down into the water with her back against her chest.

“How's this for a start?”

“Good,” Hazel murmured, laying her head back against Morwyn's collarbone with a contented sigh. “Not that much different than cuddling I suppose, other than being naked and wet and exposed and vulnerable and-”

Morwyn shushed the woman with a finger to her lips and a trail of kisses along her cheek. Hazel huffed with indignity, but Morwyn felt her smile and lean into her lips. The halfling turned her head to the side and looked up at her with adoring eyes absent much, but not all, of the trepidation they'd held before.

“Thank you for taking your time with me. I know I'm a bloody big flirt for someone who hasn't... made love before.”

Morwyn slowly trailed her fingertips up Hazel's thighs beneath the water, eliciting a soft gasp followed by a low moan that lingered in her throat. A painful question rose in Morwyn's mind, but she knew that if there was anyone in the world she could be open and honest with, it was the woman she loved with her whole heart.

“Does it bother you that I have?”

Hazel considered the question for a moment then trailed her own fingers up the sensitive skin of Morwyn's legs, mimicking her motions. A contented hum from her drew a pleased chuckle out of the halfling in kind.

“No,” she said finally. “At least one of us ought to know what we're doing. Imagine if we were both as awkward about this as I am. We'd never get anything done.”

“I'm glad,” Morwyn said, her voice low and sultry as her hands began to roam more freely. Hazel's breath caught and she shivered, though certainly not from being cold. “Because you have a lot to learn, and I'm an excellent teacher.”

It didn't take long for Hazel to rise to the occasion. She was an excellent student.