Chill of the dark

She was so small, her paw so frail beneath his own. She was vastly different from Hazel, who lived off a strength he could only imagine. But there was something appealing about Ignita, too. Alone in the dark den with her, night time hovering about them, that little thought he’d been ignoring crept slowly in. If he didn’t have Hazel… but he did, and he would rather cut off his own paw than hurt her.

“We have no other blacksmith” he said, letting her words distract him. He was more awake now, much of the sleepiness brushed away. His paw was still over hers, trapping her to him, though she might not realise it yet. “I’ve started an initial search for Charlie, but I don’t know where he was supposed to go, only that he’s late for checking in. Did he hint where he might be going for resources?” he pulled her paw a little closer, holding it just below his chest. She smelled like woodsmoke, like the fire that always burnt in the centre of the Col.