Sidra smiled, but her stomach was full of wings, as if this were their first time again.

It took her a moment to loosen the knot he’d made, and she hardly had time to lower her fingers before he pulled the dress and the chemise from her, leaving her clothes in a heap on the floor beside his.

Bared to each other, Torin traced her skin, as if he was memorizing her every line and curve. When she gasped, his mouth was there to catch it, settling against hers like a seal, and he tasted of rain and salt.

He carried her to the bed.

Together, they sank into the blankets. He kissed the curve of her throat, the valleys of her collarbones. His body was warm, comforting against hers. And for once, Torin took his time. She knew he had countless important things to do, but he chose her that night.

The light was fading. Sidra drank the scent of his skin—the traces of leather and wool, the loam of the isle, the sweat from endless work, and a slight touch of the wind—and it was familiar and beloved to her, as if she had found home in the most unexpected of places.

She drew him closer, deeper. The room was dark now, but she could faintly discern his face. The wonder in his eyes. Soon, they couldn’t see at all, but they felt and they breathed and they moved as one. The eyes of their hearts were open, and they beheld each other vividly, even in the darkness.

She woke before him. She had dreamt of a strange path in the hills, one she felt compelled to find. Quietly, Sidra slipped from the bed and found clean clothes in her wardrobe. Torin had suffered another nightmare last night. She didn’t know what he was seeing while he slept, but it worried her.

She found an empty basket and her foraging knife, donned her plaid and her boots, and emerged into the front yard.

It was dawn, and the light was a milky blue.

She left the croft for the hills, setting out on a muddy path, uncertain where she was going. But she dared to stray from the road into knee-deep heather as she looked for the path in her dreams. So entirely focused on looking for Torin’s cure, she nearly missed the trail of gorse that bloomed before her, a slender thread of gold that made her stop, amazed. It reminded her of the pathways she had seen in the spirit realm, and she followed its winding route, careful not to crush the blooms beneath her feet.