Jun 12, 2019
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 7: The Lovers
There’s something so satisfying about seeing her this way again: a worn tunic thrown over trousers, her own flower-bright yellow and brown like fresh-turned soil, her bow slung over her shoulder as she picks her way along the steep mountain path beside him— a wrong finally set right.
“I’m allowed out until dinner,” she tells him, eyeing him curiously as he leads her to a thin deer track worn through the underbrush, veering away from the beaten path, “I promised I’d be back by then.”
He smiles, and nods, but never explicitly agrees to anything. “It’ll be fine,” he assures her instead.