So that was an embarrassment, and no mistake.

Logen cursed silently to himself. All that time waiting and he hadn't been able to keep the milk in the bucket. He scratched his face sadly, picked at his scabby chin. Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers, say he's a lover.

He looked sideways at Ferro, at her faint outline in the darkness. Spiky hair, long neck stretched out, sharp shoulder, long arm pressed down against her side. Even with the coat over her he could see the rise of her hip, he could guess her shape underneath. He looked at her skin, knowing what it felt like—smooth, and sleek, and cool. He could hear her breathing. Soft, slow, warm breathing…

Hold on.

There was something stirring down below again, now. Sore, but definitely stiffening. The one advantage of having a long time without—the bucket fills up again quick. Logen licked his lips. It would be a shame to let the chance pass, just for a lack of nerve. He slid down beside her, shuffled up close, and cleared his throat.

'What?' Her voice was sharp, but not quite sharp enough to warn him off.

'Well, you know, give me a minute, and maybe…' He lifted the coat up and ran his hand up her side, skin hissing quietly against skin, nice and slow, so she had plenty of time to shove him off. It wouldn't have surprised him any if she'd turned over and kneed him in the fruits. But she didn't.

She shifted back against him, her bare arse pressing into his stomach, lifting one knee up. 'Why should I be giving you another chance?'

'I don't know…' he muttered, starting to grin. He slid his hand gently over her chest, across her belly, down between her legs. 'Same reason you gave me the first one?'

Ferro woke with a sudden jolt, not knowing where she was, only that she was trapped. She snarled and thrashed and flailed out with her elbow, fought her way free and scrambled away, teeth gritted, fists clenched to fight. But there were no enemies. Only bare dirt and bleak rock in the pale grey morning.

That and the big pink.

Ninefingers stumbled up, grunting and spitting, staring wildly around. When he saw no Flatheads poised to kill him he turned slowly to look at Ferro, eyes blinking bleary with sleep. 'Ah…' He winced and touched his fingertips to his bloody mouth. They glared at each other for a moment, both stark naked and silent in the cold shell of the ruined mill, the coat they had been lying under crumpled on the damp earth between them.

And that was when Ferro realised that she had made three serious mistakes.