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Firoque Attack
He yanked her off him and pulled her back to see her.
Her face was streaming with tears.
“What?” She swiped a few off her cheeks.
“Seeing you cry was the last thing I expected. I suppose in my mind, you’re not capable.”
“I’m very capable.” She snorted. “I’ve cried much over the years.”
“I’m sorry for it.” He murmured. Petting her hair down over her ears and along her cheeks, smoothing it around her face, comfortingly.
“Why did you make me do this?”
To his credit, shame washed over him. “I wanted things to be how they were. Just for a moment.”
I wanted to touch that impossible fantasy. Damn my soul!
“They can’t ever be how they were!” She cried.
“I got that.” His hands dropped away.
But why?
He wanted to ask but was pretty sure it’d be pointless.
“It’s too dangerous.” She sobbed. Wrapping her arms back around his neck and hanging on him.
“Too dangerous for
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“I’m sorry.” Almora offered consolingly. Sympathy written over her face at Nim’s plight. Knowing that the reason she so badly wanted to get to the country was to try to save her son. In true fashion, Nim ever offered a reassurance at the apology. Merely changing the subject. “You were quite impressive, Dread.” Nim indicated. “You weren’t too bad yourself.” Almora beamed at the compliment. “Summoning the cold is only bending what exists to my will." She eyed Nim. "But to entirely change shape is something else.” “Not so much as you’d think.” Nim coughed roughly and drew a swift breath. Hand still clutched to her side. “My beast is every bit as present as your blizzard.” She gave the fairer woman a meaningful look. “Probably more so while in the heart of Spring.” Conjuring Winter amidlate Spring was a truly remarkable feat. “You must relax.” Almora dismissed. Gently pressing Nim’s shoulders in the crackling straw p
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He queried without facing her. "Are you well to travel?” Shaking off her surprise at the abrupt question, she realized she was. She felt rejuvenated. Standing, she wriggled her bare toes and found them blessedly painless. “Are you two well?” His gaze touched on Almora’s bandaged hand. Wondering if she was too injured to continue. How had she hurt herself? He felt guilty that he'd not been more helpful. Wasn't worth much, unconscious. He grunted. “No help for me, Old Friend.” She smiled softly at him. “I am of more mortal blood. It’ll take time to heal my breaks.” Most Dreads are only partly magic, and still partly human. Lon still stared, jaw agape. Obviously unable to speak as yet. Shocked that he'd seen me heal like that. In all the years he's known me, that's never happened. Even Almora’s eyes remained wide with surprise. Filled with disbelief. Disseus stood and str
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Don’t own- Growling low in his throat, Disseus tossed down the stick he’d been stirring the kindling with. To stalk to her and tower over her. “I am not afraid of you.” Nim lifted a haughty brow. Unmoved by his show of temper. “Perhaps you should be.” His fists tightened and his lips thinned as he glowered venomously at her. It would be wise, since I'm tempted to throw you over my knee until you stop speaking foolishness. “I’m unmoved on this.” She whispered. Meeting his hard gaze. “As am I. We shall see who wins.” I'll tie you to a damn tree if necessary. Disseus gave her his back to go stand near the trees bordering their camp. Leaning against one trunk to glare at her steadily. Making his disapproval of her suggestion obvious. *** They’d all bedded down for the night. Disseus could feel Nim’s eyes boreing into his back. She reached up and tentatively touched his sho
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