He was growing colder, and hotter, all at once. Each touch, each point where their bodies met, sparked a small fire beneath his skin, even as its temperature dropped where the water had soaked him. The shivers coursing through him came as much from the cold as they came from the sensation of being touched, overloading already sensitive and tingling nerves. She felt it, there was no doubt about that, for she muttered an apology and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. While his quivers hadn't bothered him all that much, he had to admit that the feeling of her rubbing warmth into his skin was divine. "Don't be," he breathed warmly at her, meaning it. That he shivered was nothing to be sorry for. The slight discomfort of being cold was far, far outweighed by the sensation of having her warmth near — made it all the more alluring.

For a moment, the world was about to slide out from under his hooves, threatening to dump a load of icy cold water across his back and head, and dunk him in the truth of reality, that he was alone, but the space between them, so minute in size, closed again. Her warm flank merged with his, and the knot which had swiftly begun to form in his gut untangled itself, dissipated, disappeared. The fire under his skin was allowed to keep burning, the excitement in the pace of his heart, and somewhere deep within him, a yearning was growing stronger, more tangible. A quivering breath left his nostrils, and he could feel the soft rise and fall of her side as they stood so close together. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if someone saw them here, huddled close together, but Irma sent him an amused, soothing thought. She did not want to disturb them, so she kept to the skies, where she had an excellent view of the approach to their hidden nook of the Basin. With a grin she told him, don't worry brother, for small the owl might be, but she had a wicked penchant for playing on others fears, and no lack of desire to develop her powers. The active touch of their minds was brief, no more than a second's sharing of concepts and intentions, and in the space of that time Faelene had found his eyes again. The northern lights reflected like flickering sheets of color in them, but it couldn't mask the luminosity of the silvered parts — he wasn't sure what he saw in them, only that they were open, enchanting, having that same mischievous air from before.. the kind that said, this might be mad but I'll match you step for step. It was not about her accepting what his eyes said he would do to her — it was about what they would do to each other.. together.

Mauja was not one to whisper nonsensical things, to persuade (not like she needed it anyway) with words; he found the silly little things others said to be distracting, when a single touch could speak so much louder. Blowing out a breath of hot air towards her muzzle, Mauja turned his head back the other way, bringing his nose to her chest again. Her wet fur was cold, and he rubbed his maw against it. Gently he rocked back half a step, his white side still pressed firmly against hers. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand this close to her without breaking his neck if he wanted to touch her, but for as long as he could, he would; his own skin tingling even where she wasn't touching him he gently began to work his way around from the front of her chest, up along the plane of her shoulder, trailing his soft muzzle against her skin, rubbing little circles along her nape. Up, along the line of her mane, his lips pulling back a little as he softly dragged his teeth against her neck. It felt as if the world beyond him grew still and quiet, no sounds except for their breathing, and his heart in his ears, and the occasional shuffle of his hooves against rock as he began to work his way back to her shoulder, relishing in the pleasure of a simple touch.

Mauja Frosthjärta