Snow Mountain

- 10 -

She is surprised but not displeased that he kisses her first.

His lips are warm, and smooth, save for a soft ridge of a scar near the left corner. She had noticed it before, but now she feels it. Now she feels everything. The smooth texture of his lips contrasted with the hard ridges of his shoulders beneath her hands. The soft wool his tunic as it bunches beneath her palms opposed to the tickling scratch of his wiry beard. The herdsman's hands on her waist with a grip like iron, yet gentle in the same moment.

Soon his lips alone are not enough, and she pushes her tongue against them, longing for more.

He lets her in and reciprocates for a teasing moment before withdrawing. During their kiss his hand has found its way to her head, and it laces in her short hair, effortlessly tugging her head back to expose her neck to him. His lips trace from her collar of her tunic up her neck to her ear, and she moans helplessly.

His mouth stops just beside the shell of her ear. "Your lips taste like goose," he whispers. "Perhaps I should have called you 'Goose' instead."

Her moans evaporate into laughter, and she playfully hits his chest.

"Ba-ba-ba," he scolds, catching both her hands with one of his. "Do not punish me for finding out your true nature." His voice is teasing, in a way she has not heard before, and it excites her as much as his kisses.

The herdsman lowers his head to her neck once more, intentionally dragging his beard along the sensitive skin with each kiss in such a way as to make her shake with more silent laughter.

Finally she has had enough, and pushes him away, breathing heavily, laughter still shaking her shoulders.

But when she finds the herdsman's face it is not laughter she sees. His serious expression makes her heart sink.

"Jalintu, there are things I still have not told you-"

Her hands rush to cover his lips to silence him. She shakes her head. She has her own secrets, as does everyone. She does not need to know his. Not for this.

She already knows everything she needs to.

He smiles faintly behind her hands. "You know I treasure you though, don't you?"

She smiles back, and nods.

His lips take in one of her fingertips, softly pressing it. She feels the faint bite of teeth before he draws back and kisses her palm.

"Hmmm," he says, his hum rumbling in his chest. His face is mock serious now, thick brows drawn low. "It seems your hands also taste of goose."

She laughs again and goes to hit him. Once more he catches her hands, grinning down at her roguishly.

"Shall I taste the rest of you, to see what you truly are?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

When she wakes she is sore all over, and glad for it.

She rolls over, surprised to find the place beside her in the bed empty. It is still warm, and the skins have been recently tucked around her, suggesting he left a short while ago.

That is fine. She does not want him near for what she is about to do.

She stands, dresses, and makes her way through the caves.

The herdsman surprised her. She had assumed him a timid lover, based on his initial hesitation. But once they started he showed no restraint, nor did he treat her roughly. A perfect blend of tender and firm.

She does not want to let him go. She cannot.

At the entrance to the cave she pauses. The arrows she has fletched are there, gathered in woven baskets, ready to draw and fire. Near two thousand. She has spent all winter making them.