the water.
Falthyris lifted a hand, catching one of the braids woven at his temples between forefinger and thumb. Only two days ago, he had been taking apart another ox, slicing out chunks of meat to cook for his mate, snarling because his hair had repeatedly fallen into his face. Something had hooked his hair from behind.
He’d raised his blood-soaked claws, spun around, and gnashed his teeth, lunging into an instinctive attack. His heart had skipped a beat when he realized it was Elliya behind him; he’d stopped himself with his claws a whisper away from her flesh.
Elliya’s gaze had remained steady, and the only change to her expression was the slightest upward shift of her eyebrows. Without a word, she had taken his hair again, and her deft little fingers had worked their magic. She’d braided his hair at each temple, her fingers lightly brushing his scales from time to time as she worked. When she was done, she’d simply walked away. The braids had worked well in keeping most of his hair out of his face in the time since.
He longed for those light touches. He longed for the familiarity with which she’d treated him for those moments, for the closeness and the companionable quiet. He longed for the oddly warm, fluttering feeling she’d woken in him with her gentle ministrations, with her small show of kindness.
Falthyris ran his eyes over her shining hair, appreciating it as but one part of her beauty—a beauty that was granted a unique glow by her surroundings. The sky and clouds were reflected upon the river’s surface around her, and countless points of light flared and faded across it like stars being born and dying in the space of a heartbeat. The droplets on her skin sparkled like precious gemstones as she moved.
The Red Heat slithered through his mind, deepening the ache in his loins, but he rejected its impulses. Falthyris wanted Elliya’s body—all of it—but he also wanted intimacy. Not merely physical intimacy, but intimacy of their hearts and minds. He wanted conversation. Wanted companionship.
He wanted…Elliya.
Once again, he pried his eyes away from her, this time turning his head to look downriver—that was the direction in which the wind was blowing, the direction from which any hungry beasts were most likely to come. He flicked out his tongue to taste the air. Her scent was the most pronounced of all, and it must’ve been due to his skewed perspective, his altered focus. There was no way one little human could overpower all the other smells around her, was there?
She rose and flicked her hair back. Water sprayed from her tresses, the droplets flashing bright in the sunlight. The sight should have been meaningless, mundane, but something about it held Falthyris transfixed. She ran her hands over her skin, scrubbing herself clean. Though her back was still toward him, he could imagine her hands smoothing over her chest mounds, brushing those dark buds at their peaks, trailing along the flat of her stomach, dipping toward her pelvis.
But it was not until she began singing that her spell upon him was complete.
Her soft voice was high and melodic, rising over the river’s sounds without clashing with them. It echoed off the canyon walls, becoming something as powerful as it was gentle, and resonated within his heartfire, pushing back the Heat that had settled into him so deeply.
Falthyris’s tongue flitted out again, this time to slide across his lips. Without meaning to, he leaned forward, braced his hands on the boulder, and climbed down. His tail slid over the stone behind him.
Elliya continued singing as she tilted her head to make her hair dangle over one shoulder and combed her fingers through it again, working out the knots and tangles.
Falthyris stood up and walked to the water’s edge. He’d heard the songs of birds and insects, the songs of wind, sand, and stone. Long, long ago, he’d heard some of the songs of his kind. All those songs had been wordless—they communicated their intentions without the need for words. Yet the words Elliya sang did not detract from the beauty or impact of her song.
She sang her praise and thanks, to the water, to the life-giver, to the source of every plant and animal in both the Shimmering Peaks and the Forsaken Sands. Several times as she washed and sang, she invoked a name he had heard her speak before—Cetolea.
Cetolea, mother of all, we thank you for your gift.
Wellspring of life, blood of our tribe,