Stubborn Love

She let Rhyme lead her into her den, concerned herself for the unborn children inside of her. She offered less resistance or complaint she otherwise would have, as she took a seat and let Rhyme grabbed the things he needed. “The sheep is a good idea, it will be the bed for the children.” she told him. It would smell like Rhyme, and they would always associate him with comfort. Her heart lurched, wanting and not wanting this simultaneously

Rhyme returned to her with his chosen ingredients, setting himself beside her where he could attend to her wound. As he did so, she took a small clump of the herbs from where he had placed them on the ground before starting, and began to sort them herself. She gave nothing away until she leaned over, and cleaned out his own impressive wound, the one that looked like it would scar. Glancing up at him with a raised brow like that seemed to say “Go on, say something, I dare you.” there was a slight hint of a smile beneath it - she wouldn’t settle for a no. if he cared to her wound, she would care for his.