Archive of Our Own ^beta

She never should have listened to Rakan’s directions.

Squinting through a blizzard, with the yells of the the Xan’Fai nomads still chasing them – wielding rocks, torches, and a few glaives - and had looked to Rakan for guidance since he’d travelled this continent innumerable times in his lifetime.

He had looked so certain as they were fleeing over the Shon-Xan pass.This path, he’d said. I’ve been this way tons of times! I can do it with my eyes closed!

And like a fool, she’d believed him.

Not one of her brightest moments. They’d only been travelling together slightly over a year, and she had learned long before now that Rakan’s willful nature was an unreliable force, though a powerful one.

Now they were continuing still up the mountain path, though the dark and the blizzard and the snow that was already up to her knees. She could no longer hear the angry voices of the humans – at least, not over the wind, and snow absorbs sound anyway – but they couldn’t go back the way they came, risking running into pissed off humans again.

That was Rakan’s fault too.

Kinda.

Okay. Maybe it was a bit of her fault too. But still. Couldn’t he stick to a plan for once??

Rakan’s ahead of her, his wrapped feet traversing the snow easily. His feathers are letting off a bit of light, so even as he’s quite a way ahead of her she can still see him.

“Maybe this way? I thought it was around this corner Xayah, don’t worry it’s just a little bit longer.”

“N-no w-wo-worries.” She stutters, and she tries to follow with her feet in his footprints. It helped speed up the process, but only by a little. “Just f-fuh- freezing to death suh-slowly.”

“Doing okay back there?”

Rakan turns back to face her, jumps in leaping bounds towards her, face flushed and grinning amongst the snow, not hunched or tired despite the hectic last few hours and the extra weight of a backpack. How the hell did he do it? It only makes her bad mood worse.

“Come on, let me carry you. We’re almost there anyway.” He slides his backpack to hang in front of his tummy then bends down and offers his back, and Xayah stares at his tempting offer for a few seconds before shaking her head and shoving him away.

“I’m not infirm.” She states.

“I didn’t say you were.” Rakan replies and shrugs. “But if you don’t wanna, that’s fine!” Then he offers his hand instead, and she stares at the offending appendage for a few seconds. It’s tempting, so tempting. His hand would be big and warm around hers and he’d do half the work in helping her walk through the snow.

She bites her lip. These were weak thoughts.

“I’m not your heart-fire Rakan, I’m not here to hold hands.” She snaps, regrets it immediately, but still pulls her appendages back to her body like it’d stop the yearning.

“Suit yourself!”

He jumps back ahead of her, full of energy even with his laden backpack and the stressful last few hours. Xayah grinds her teeth.

Couldn’t be too much further .

She hates the snow. Hates the cold, hates how slippery it is. She’s slipped and fallen into a snowbank twice and now her clothes are soaked through. Only so much her feathers and meagre magic could repel. Meanwhile Rakan purposely dived into any big appealing pile within eye-shot, flying out again after a few seconds covered in powder; an excited baby seal.

“Oh! Xayah!! Here it is!” He calls from ahead. It gives her the energy to take her steps a little faster.

Somehow, miraculously, this time Rakan’s not wrong.

There’s a cave he’s proudly gesturing too, medium sized. Its form in the dark looks tall enough for them to stand up comfortably in but she’s not sure how deep it goes.

“No animals inside?” She asks, cautiously. It looks like the sort of place bears or mountain lions would like to make their home.

“Nope! Already did a run-through.”

Rakan starts packing down the snow around the entrance with his feet, making little paths.

“Well then you did one thing right today. I should throw you a party.” She snarks, and peers into the cave. Looks like he was right. Empty. She tosses her backpack down on a patch of packed down snow and rolls her shoulders, trying to loosen the tensed muscles there. She’d kill for a massage, a hot bath, anything.

“Aw, you don’t have to do that for me! Today wasn’t all me - you did stuff too. Mostly bad, but still, important stuff!” Satisfied with the area he has flattened for them, Rakan then starts digging with his feet, pulling out any big rocks that he finds and setting them aside in a circle.

“Excuse me?” Xayah gives him one of her more scouring glares, but of course the idiot doesn’t notice it.

“You’re improving your people skills! I think the talks were going pretty well until you pulled out your feather-daggers.”

“I needed to intimidate them. Show them I’m not to be fucked with.”

“They weren’t aggressive until you threatened their leader.” He says matter-of-factly, but he doesn’t sound like he really cares too much either way. His tone goes back to encouraging. “Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em next time! Wait, we’ll get ‘em next time.”

He sounds pleased. Xayah can feel her feathers starting to rise. Her face smarts with embarrassment.

“Maybe next time I’ll go without you. I think it’d work better.” She retorts.

“Without me? But Xayah, we’re teammates.”

She doesn’t want to say it. But the embarrassment twists her tongue into a hateful thing. The words bubble free.

“Well I don’t think it’s working out! Look where we are, fuh-freezing in the middle of nowhere on a mountain!!” She steps towards him and slips; has to grab onto a tree branch to steady herself. Snow flops off the disturbed bough and lands on her head with a soft fwoof.

At the sight of her Rakan hides his face behind a hand, stifling a chuckle. In any other circumstance, maybe she would have laughed too. Maybe they would have had a snowball fight.

This time, she releases a wordless shriek of frustration, shaking off the snow and throwing a line of her knife-feathers as hard as her arm could muster into the white, snowy abyss high above them.

After that the loud sound echoed on repeat for several more moments, her voice becoming a ghost of itself. Then, silence. Too still of a reverie, almost. Like holding your breath, a pause between movements. Anticipation. Falling snowflakes made soft wet sounds as it collected atop its brethren.

Then the rumbling started, slow but growing louder and louder like the hungry growl of some giant’s belly. Rakan’s ears twitch and swivel like he’s trying to track it, but in the dark it’s impossible to tell. Xayah’s eyes dart around, squinting against the snow and the night. Flakes land on her eyelashes and melt into her eyes until she blinks, further obscuring her lens.

“Rakan – “ She calls out to him and the nerves are clear in her voice. She’s not as familiar with the mountains, not like how he claimed to be, but she knows enough common sense to really hope that that sound isn’t what she thinks it is. Meanwhile Rakan’s no help, frozen still as the ice around them, ears finally fixed in their angle pointed almost entirely up above them.

She still can’t see anything.

There’s a loud crash just as Rakan tackles her, launching into her hard like he’s a golem pushing her aside and not a creature of flesh and blood. They land on hard stone and it knocks the wind out of her, though her head thankfully is cushioned by what feels like an arm. Even while being crushed by Rakan’s bigger body she can hear the rumbling grow louder and louder, cumulating in noise like the world smashing together an absurdly large set of drums. Then the clamour drastically changes, becoming dampened by cotton fluff.

Then finally, complete silence. All she can hear is Rakan’s breathing.

She’s trapped against his torso; he’s like a brick that’s been shoved in a stove. Wiggling back and forth isn’t freeing her even though she struggles, and pressed this close she can smell woodsmoke and apples with a hint of cocoa. To her surprise she feels a rush of giddiness like she’s a young fledgling at a festival and she has no clue as to why.

Forthwith she swallows the feeling and buries it somewhere deep.

“Get off!” She pushes up at his chest and eventually he moves his head, craning his neck down to peer at her while he bridges his torso up with his elbows. It’s pitch dark, but her eyes are quickly adapting to the conditions and she can now make out the relative shape of his dumb, stupid, handsome face.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice is concerned, and she can feel the heat of his gaze on her.

“Yeah I’m okay, but I’d be better if you got off!”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and she immediately regrets her choice of words. Maybe he wouldn’t take the bait? she hopes to herself.

“I’d also feel better.” Rakan replies with a wink, but he manages to lift himself higher up off the floor and she scuttles out from under him. A quick sweep of her main body reveals no scratches or bruises. She squints in the room and it slowly comes into view around her.

She’s in a cave. The cave they’d scoped out as a sleeping spot. Where the mouth was there now was a wall of snow, though the light bouncing off his cloak reflected against the snow in a dim showing of gold. Rakan’s like her, blinking in the dark but no worse for wear than her thanks to his fast reflexes. He sits up, and stares about the place in wonder.

“An avalanche.” Xayah says flatly, staring at the wall of snow. She approaches it cautiously and punches her fist through it. She makes it all the way to her shoulder and still doesn’t break through to the open air.

She frowns.

“We’re trapped. Rakan, we’re trapped.” She tries punching through at a different spot and gets the same result.

Xayah’s never been afraid of small spaces. They can stand here, and walk a few paces back and forth, stretch to their hearts content, but when it came down to it they were trapped here. The wall of collapsed snow was the only obstacle to their freedom. Suddenly, it seemed like the biggest enemy they’d ever face.

Diving towards it with clawed hands she digs at the wall like it would simply open up and free them both. Where she pulls snow out it is quickly replaced by more soft powder falling and taking its place. Rakan’s voice is a timbre as chill as the snow.

“Stop. You need to wait until it’s settled. Otherwise we’ll just get more in here.”

Xayah whips her head around to glare at him, razor quick. Rakan still sounds so calm, somehow. It baffles her.

“How would you know?”

“My tribe would spend winter in the mountains. Snow’s kinda my thing, you know? Well, after dancing… and after looking fabulous – and after being the most beloved performer that’s ever been.” He grins shamelessly at her. She suspects he’s trying to make her laugh.

Xayah rolls her eyes and turns back to glaring at the snow wall currently trapping her in a twelve foot-cubed area, as if the force of it alone could cause it to melt.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m wiped. Today has been wild!” Rakan drops his backpack and detaches the hanging sleeping bag, unrolls it in a flourish. “I’m ready to sleep. Let it set and we can dig tomorrow.”

She takes one last cupped swipe at the wall and glares as the white fluff fills back into the gap. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe he was right. Maybe. For once.

Rakan’s basically a nightlight; his magic goes to his feathers and they emit a slight glow, keeping the cave at a comfortable dim. Their breath fogs the still air, and the cold radiates up through the floor to her feet. Somehow it’s worse than being outside.

Breathing on her hands to warm them, she looks around for her belongings.

Nothing. No backpack, no sleeping bag, no blankets. No food. No water.

She’s not wearing it.

“Rakan, did you grab my backpack?” She asks with only a tiny shred of hope.

He stops his grooming briefly to look at her, spinning the mirror in his hand.

“Nope! Only had time for you. Why?”

She’d left it outside. It was probably under fifty feet of snow right now, useless to both of them. Either that or carried off the mountain to some destination kilometres from here.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”

A thousand scenarios flash through her mind, most of them involve her sleeping on the cold, uneven rock ground. The more appealing options involved knocking out Rakan and stealing his sleeping space even though he’d be sure to whine about it later.

Xayah shivers.

They couldn’t make a fire, even if they had enough wood she didn’t fancy going into a coma from smoke inhalation. She’s soaked, and tired, and if she’s honest, kind of… lonely.

It’s stupid. It doesn’t make any sense – just the frustrations of the day catching up with her. It seems there was still going to be a few more disappointments before the day is done.

“What do you have in your bag?” She dives to his backpack and starts digging through it. There had to be something useful in there, an extra blanket, a straw mat, something.

There’s a waterskin, thank the spirits, she sets it aside. A bundle of something wrapped in cheesecloth – hopefully food though clearly not very much – and that gets laid atop the waterskin. She pulls out one comb, then two others of varying sizes, then tiny pots plugged with wax. She sends Rakan a questioning look, but he’s not paying attention; lying on his side, tapping his foot while preening his feathers. Further down she closes her hand around multiple smooth, hard items. Withdrawing them she peers at the items on her palm.

Rocks. They’re rocks. Some she can tell are shiny and polished smooth, others seem to be pieces of sea glass. Pulling a semi-disgusted face, she drops them back into the pack.

Other than that, there’s a few soft washcloths. A bar of floral-smelling soap. Some tiny vials of what she thinks is glitter. An all-purpose knife folded in half. A finer, well-woven cloth and some jewelers rouge wrapped in wax-rubbed paper, a coarse bristled brush used for buffing mirrors.

That’s all. Nothing useful, all frivolous bullshit. She really shouldn’t have expected anything else. Slowly, she looks back over at Rakan still lounging on his sleeping roll.

He notices her gaze immediately and taps it invitingly, sliding his hand along it like he’s caressing a lover. “We can share if you want. Also, you look cold, are you alright?”

Her glare could curdle milk. Of course she’s cold, everything’s wet and sticking to her skin like some clammy whale-flesh. How was he not bothered by it???

“No. We can take shifts.” She says firmly. The moment the words are out of her mouth he deflates, disappointed by her prudish restraint, but not surprised. She too feels almost a little let down when he nods and doesn’t fight it.

“If that’ll make you happy. Wanna take first sleep then?” He slides off of the sleeping bag and cedes the space to her. She kneels and quickly picks through her hair with one of Rakan’s combs, straightens her feathers just as quickly, then dives into the sack. It’s partially warmed from when Rakan was sitting on it, but not nearly warm enough. She shivers between the bag’s padded fabric and tries dipping in a little deeper.

Obscured from view she slides out of her wet clothes, leaving just her undergarments.

“Don’t look!” She warns.

“Don’t look at what? Where?!” Rakan immediately starts looking around the cave for whatever she could possibly be referring to.

“J-just, never mind. Goodnight.” She flips then to put her back to him and start staring at the wall, but she still hears his reply, quick and sweet before going back to singing and fiddling with his mirror.

“Goodnight Xayah.”

Warmth blossomed in her chest briefly and refused to sizzle out though she stamps at it. It shouldn’t make her that happy.

She shudders again and tries to pull the cloth closer around her. They were fairly well padded but she found them trash for heat, especially since Rakan’s bag was bigger make than her own (for obvious reasons) which left more room for heat to escape. Her own body wasn’t the best at producing warmth anyway, so she relied on a good fire most of the time to make it through the night.

Worse still, the sleeping bag smells like Rakan. Musky and warm with a rich, heady scent that made her nose and cheeks tingle. Survival. She needed to focus on them getting out of here, getting down the mountain and returning eventually to Shon-Xan to attempt another meeting with the humans. No time to lie around in here. Rest up a bit, and then they’d get back to work. Digging out all that snow would be a pain, but with the two of them it shouldn’t be too bad.

Rakan’s still singing to himself, half under his breath. Sometimes the tap of his nails on gold reaches her ears and it brings to mind projectiles hitting against armour, and it startles her drifting mind to attention.

An hour passes this way. It’s no good. She can’t sleep.

Trembling, she pokes her head out of the opening of the sleeping bag.

“Still awake?” Rakan stops his singing and fidgeting. “I’m being too loud, right? My bad.”

“Nuh-no.” Her teeth are still chattering. Would she get frostbite here trying to sleep like this? Why the hell wasn’t Rakan affected? Life wasn’t fair.

Yes he was loud, but Rakan was always ambiently making some sort of noise and having presence. She’s somewhat used to it by now. Not having a fire wasn’t something they did often, and certainly not during the winter.

Rakan walks over to her, feet a foot from the sleeping bag. A second passes as he appraises her.

“Still too cold? You know, I can help with that.”

His voice is soft, more genuine this time. No flirting undertones. It slips past her guard like wind through a chink in the wall and for the first time in a while she wonders; what if?

Nobody was here but them. Who would see them? Who would know?

She would know .

Was that a problem?

…Maybe .

Xayah realises that perhaps now it was less of a problem than it was months before, even a week before, and that in itself is a scary revelation.

“Don’t look.” She says, and Rakan startles, blinking and cocking his head to the side like a hopeful puppy.

“What?”

If he needs her to repeat herself again after this she doesn’t think she’ll be able to actually accomplish it. She’d rather lose her appendages to frost bite than lose her pride.

Once more though, she can manage. She squeezes her eyes shut, takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“… You can join me, but don’t look, and especially don’t touch.”

It dawns on him, eyes going wide as saucers while his mouth forms a little ‘o’.

Rakan doesn’t ask any further questions. It’s like he knows, and of course he’s known, and she hears rustling as he discards his pants, hanging coat and cloak before he leans down and lifts open the mouth of the sleeping bag. Xayah does hold her breath now, and braces for the feeling of another body joining her.

His foot brushes her leg as he slides in, inching lower and lower until he too was fully enclosed in the sleeping sack, tall enough for his feet to brush the bottom and his head to rest just under the maw of the opening.

It’s a tight fit. His front is pressed to her back, and while shuffling to get comfortable he attempts to put his arm around her. The offending thing didn’t wander far, it just rested on her arm, but she shakes it off immediately.

“No touching.” She repeats. She can feel her own heart in her throat, she hopes it couldn’t be heard beating a mile a minute as she speaks. “We can face opposite ways.”

“Okay.” Rakan wasn’t going to argue when she had already given him this much. It takes a bit of awkward shuffling but he manages to turn a hundred and eighty degrees so flip to face the other way.

It’s easily ten times warmer with him in the bag with her. Eventually her heart migrates back down to her chest where it belonged, and the toasty warmth of the bedroll starts beckoning at her to rest.

-+-+-

Consciousness comes back to her slowly. Stretching briefly, she settles back into the padded heat. It smells amazing, sweet yet still masculine, attached to this subconscious ideal of safety. There’s an arm around her waist, a broad front pressed into her back and soft breath tickling her hair.

Rakan’s spooning her.

Right now, she has two choices. Or rather, everything boils down at it’s simplest to two choices.

She can wake him up, or she can wait until he wakes up.

Is he still asleep? It wouldn’t be past him to wake up and continue with this forbidden contact, even if it originally started as an accident. Does she wake him up? Yell? Slap him away? Yell? Some immediate, childish part of her said yes.

Rakan was like rubber, he’d bounce back from whatever hurt she tries to hurl at him, no problem. Her issue was she didn’t want to throw harsh words or gimped assault his way right now. Every time she considered it she remembered him half covered in collapsed snow, braced over her, worried eyes asking are you hurt?

This conundrum could be solved by logic. She doesn’t think he’s trying to take advantage of her. Being held like he was her lover wasn’t something she needed to fight, right?

So long as he was asleep . So long as he was asleep she can maybe sneak out from under him, forget about the whole thing.

Then, he coughs.

Awake. He’s awake.

Everything goes out the window. She squirms and yanks his arm off her, feeling far more embarrassed than was probably necessary.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice is rising, shaking off tiredness quickly as she fights to wiggle out of the bag. Rakan is taking up a lot of space, half asleep he’s hard to squeeze past.

“What?” Rakan still sounds drowsy, but he was conscious. It was no excuse.

“I said we couldn’t cuddle! I said no touching! You had one rule Rakan!”

“You asked me to.” Rakan says matter of factly, face looking a bit confused as he blinks away sleep-sand. Their faces are uncomfortably close together. “You woke up in the middle of the night and told me to hold you. You said you were cold.”

“I did not!” She insists, mortification rising to tie her tongue. Words feel thick in her mouth the more she fights against it. Rakan’s normally a terrible liar – not that the shameless creature ever felt the need to lie about these things – but still. It doesn’t seem like he’s lying about this.

There’s some muddy recollection in her mind of stirring in the dark, barely conscious, yearning for something solid, to feel like she was wanted, like she had a place. She can feel herself turn as pink. As her ears.

“You did –“ Rakan starts petulant, but then cuts off with a pause. He studies her face for a second that feels far too long to her, and then smiles patiently like he’s in on some secret, some understanding all of his own, and she hates it. She manages to free herself of the bag to her waist.

Rakan knows.

“I’m sorry. It’s my mistake,” he amends, “I get clingy when I sleep. Sorry Xayah. It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t. Because tonight we’re going to sleep in shifts.”

“Aw come on! It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

It wasn’t. But it wasn’t a matter of that, not really.

She glares at him while choosing her next words and watches his eyes drift down, wandering from her face to somewhere else, and she’s immediately struck with annoyance. What was so interesting that he was ignoring her? The dark, empty cave?

The air feels a bit colder somehow than it should, like she’s more exposed, missing a layer of her skin. She looks down.

She’d forgotten – she’s still only in her underclothes, her bra not nearly enough protection. Not from the damp, chilled air and certainly not from his eyes. She flicks her head to cast an iron-hot gaze upon her companion.

“It’s dark. I hardly saw anything.” Rakan says immediately, voice sounding a little higher than usual as he hurriedly averts his eyes to the far left. Xayah contemplates whether to make something out of this, but then decides that perhaps the fear of retaliation was better than actually doing so.

“Close your eyes. I’m getting dressed.” She finally says, exasperated, then waits until Rakan covers his face with the blankets before she shimmies the rest of the way out.

The cold, damp air of the cave hits her like a frozen brick the second she exposes herself, but there’s not much that could be done for that. She’s dry and relatively warm – thanks to Rakan and that spirit-forsaken sleeping bag – and so she manages to weave her usual winter garb room temperature and dry, but not feeling enough magic in the area to conjure herself a thicker sweater. Scowling, she tucks her wing-cloak around herself tighter and hopes the cave warms up a little once they get moving around.

“We can get something small to eat and start digging.” She starts planning aloud, even though she knows Rakan probably isn’t listening anyway. “If we start now and go hard, I’m sure we can be out within a day, right? Right.”

His backpack is all they have for food. She unwraps the cheesecloth from the night before and hopes it’s something high in protein. Dried meat would be ideal, lots of protein for energy. Dried fruit would be okay but wouldn’t be very filling. Raw vegetables would probably be the worst option, but that’s only because it’d all be rock-solid from the cold and they had no way to peel any of it. Eating a yam like it was an apple didn’t appeal to her at all.

Unfortunately for her the reality was a fourth option.

It’s chocolate.

Three blocks of dark chocolate, dusted with sugar and sitting in the cheesecloth, half-frozen from the cold. Xayah’s eye twitches.

“What’s this?” She asks, pointing down at it with a hateful finger.

“Hm?” Rakan wiggles a bit farther out of the sleeping bag to look over at what’s in her hands. His eyes light up as he sees it.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that! I still had some chocolate left over. Do you want some?”

“I know it’s chocolate.” Xayah replies stonily, feeling her already wan patience wear thin once again. No food. They had nothing but this chocolate. Her face screws up as she sniffs it, and she rewraps the sweets in cheesecloth. Her stomach grumbles.

“Well why did you ask?”

“Do you at least have water?” She pulls out his waterskin and shakes it. Something sloshes around on the inside, fairly near the top. Thank the spirits, it’s a full waterskin of water. That should be enough to last them till they got out .

She uncaps the bottle and takes a huge swig, swallowing the cold liquid as it hits her tongue. Two seconds in she feels a burning in her chest, a warm heat coming from inside diffusing out just in time for her tongue to register the taste. It was distinctly orange, whatever this drink was, but that didn’t hide the distinct bite of alcohol. Just as fast her mouth buckles and she coughs, spitting out a little of the liquid as she pounds her chest and gasps.

“Wh- what is this??” It was stronger than anything she’d had before. Already the prickling was running down her body, a delightful buzzing from the tip of her scalp to her fingertips and toes. It worked fast, whatever it was.

It wasn’t too bad now that she thinks about it. She takes another cautious sip, pulling a face still at its strength, but it better than the first time.

“Oh, you found my secret cider! I call it ‘sunshine’, the kind people of Kashuri gave it to me after a performance there. Good stuff. This young lass at the inn makes it. I forget what she called it, but I like my name better. Besides, pretty sure this stuff’s illegal, which is half of why it’s so good.”

Rakan dresses quickly, then saunters over to her and takes a drink himself before passing it back to Xayah.

“Phew, it still has the kick I remember.”

Xayah stares down into the canteen and isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or scream. He must have been sneaking water from her for the last while, either that or just getting a drink from a stream whenever he needed it, since the last time they were over near Kashuri was two months ago.

“So, you’re saying we have no water?”

Her statement bamboozles him for some reason. Rakan raises an eyebrow at her.

“Why do we need it? We’re surrounded by it!” He incredulously gestures at the great wall of snow that was entrapping them.

“You want us to melt snow for our water?” She responds with the same amount of disbelief. That was a feat that would take a great deal of energy. She was pretty sure people weren’t supposed to eat snow on account of it mostly being made up of air. Channeling their body’s energy with magic to make themselves warmer to manually melt it first would be too tiring to say the least. The exhaustion of channeling in low magic areas to heat it would probably kill them faster than dehydration would.

“Why not?” He grabs a big handful to prove a point, and she watches him melt it quickly down in his cupped hands, taking a sip. “It tastes fine. Here, have some.”

He offers his hands to her and she hesitantly lays her smaller hands under his, tipping it to her mouth like she would a cup. She drinks the rest of the water with pursed lips, unhappy but at the same time if he was offering and it wasn’t hurting her… no harm, right? Rakan wouldn’t do it if it was too much for him to take, she’s sure.

When his palms are empty he wipes them off in his pants, large hands leaving hers with no hesitation.

Her hands suddenly feel cold now they’ve left his. Stupid, so stupid. She takes the waterskin and takes another quick swig. It burns in her upper chest a few seconds after swallowing and she coughs, the sourness twisting her tongue. Spitefully, she grabs another handful of snow and presses it to his neck.

“Yikes! Cold!” He goes to brush her away but she crumbles it into pieces, ensuring a few slipped down under his sweater. She smirks.

“Your job is to melt snow with your body heat whenever we need something to drink. It can be your penance for not packing water. I’ll start the digging – we’ll take turns. Okay?”

Rakan pouts but tucks the waterskin full of sunshine back against his chest.

“Dig with what? Your hands? Won’t they get cold?”

“Yeah? So? Do you have any other ideas?” She asks, and Rakan shrugs. They have no tools, and her feathers would be less effective than her hands at scooping.

Kneeling in front of the wall, Xayah starts digging her hands into the white packed flakes. It’s not frozen together too tightly, so it’s not too difficult to start pulling out handful after handful and depositing it to the side. It doesn’t collapse on itself when she starts digging inward, so she takes it as a good sign.

But her hands are freezing. It’s only been five minutes and they’ve gone from prickling to stabbing to burning. A few more seconds and she has to withdraw them, shoving her cold appendages between her clothed thighs to warm them.

“Told you.” Rakan chirps from his spot on the bedroll. “Want me to warm your hands for you?” He reaches out his hands for her own, palms open and ready for her own. She’s sure they must be magnetised by the strong draw she feels to place hers in his. Still, she resists.

“That won’t be necessary.” Xayah replies in a clipped tone. She rubs her hands together for a few moments longer then withdraws them, intent to resume working.

This kind of digging gets tiring quickly. She has to stop after each few inches to heat her hands back up by either breathing on them or shoving them under her armpits. What she really needs is some kind of tool, but everything useful had been in her own backpack.

Struck with frustration at her progress she grabs Rakan’s backpack once again and roots through it, taking in the inventory of useless odds and ends. A few of the bigger rocks she sets aside.

They were pretty at least. The biggest was shiny and multicoloured, veins of crystals running through it. It fit as a solid weight the full size of her palm. The second biggest was a little denser, black with white lines, smoothed by something that she can’t guess. The ocean, maybe?

Xayah strikes the biggest rock with the second biggest, hard enough that the sudden loud clack sound made Rakan’s head whip around. He jumps to his feet.

“What are you doing?” He sounds appalled.

“Trying to make something to scoop snow with.” Another hard hit and part of the bigger rock broke off, leaving it a flatter surface. Rakan yelps and reaches out as if to rescue the thing but pulls back once Xayah glares at him.

“Your rock collection isn’t worth our freedom Rakan.” She states flatly, challenging him to say otherwise. He bites his lip, clearly struggling with the destruction of his treasured collection, but eventually deflates, nodding in defeat.

“Just be gentle, okay?” He winces as she strikes the rocks together for a third time. “I collected those from all over. They’re unique.”

“Uh huh.” She smacks them together again.

“They are! Each have an extraordinary story behind them. You see, that multi-coloured pastel one, I had to charm a marai in order to get that! Oh, and that black one I call the lightning stone, the stories I could tell about that one… it all started when I visited Fae’lor– “

Xayah drones Rakan out and keeps carving through all of her companions babbling and fretting, and eventually gets it to a somewhat scoop-like shape. Leaving Rakan to pick through the fragments left behind, she resumes digging with the improvised tool.

Progress goes a lot faster after that. She’s not exactly sure how deep they are buried, but she builds the tunnel out horizontally for a little first before slowly slanting it upwards. The snow she discards into their cave Rakan pulls into a pile, packing it together and shaping it into a chair. He makes funny poses on it whenever she’d spare him a glance.

They switch places on and off, taking turns being the digger or taking the discarded snow and pushing to the side. The tunnel they dig is barely wide enough for Rakan to squeeze through, but that’s all they need.

They break for lunch, drinking the water now-melted by hand, and Xayah suffers through a single block of chocolate. Hours pass like this, Rakan chattering while they take turns scooping snow, somehow cheerfully unaffected by their situation.

She wants to get out by tonight, find her backpack – if it was even possible to do so now – and then get a good nights sleep in a place with her personal space and breathe without feeling like Rakan was everywhere. It was starting to affect her judgement.

When it’s her turn to dig next she does so with a renewed determination. It couldn’t be much longer until they were out – they’d been at this for hours. How much snow could an avalanche leave, anyway? Finally out of curiosity she pushes her arm into the snow as far as he could go. Xayah gets almost to her armpit before attempts to wiggle her wrist around meets no resistance.

Air. She’s touching air.

“I can feel outside! I just punched through - we just have to make it a little farther!” Xayah calls elatedly back through the cramped tunnel. Its multiple feet slanted and then straight back to where Rakan is, but if he’s paying even half-attention he should still be able to hear her clearly. His response is delayed, but at least he wasn’t napping or screwing around again.

“Good job!” Rakan cheers back, equally as enthusiastic. “Want me to do the last bit? Widen it out?”

When it came to speed and strength, nothing could stop Rakan when it came to a task he was pumped for. It’d probably be faster letting him do it than continuing to dig herself.

“Go crazy.”

She switches out with him, sliding out of their tiny frozen hole to let him take her place. He crawls up to the last part she’d dug and starts pushing with his body rather than their crude tools. Xayah watches with eager anticipation; the sooner she can get some fresh air and clear her head the better.

“Oh yeah!! I can feel it!” He whoops. “We’ll be outta here in no time.”

There couldn’t be much left, since her fist had reached air when she was digging. Rakan was wiggling ferociously like a supercharged worm, fighting against the tunnel with all his strength, jabbing with his elbows and knees, desperately trying to break free like a butterfly from a cocoon. She watches him push up one final time to no success, then turns away and picks up their bedding, hanging it over her shoulders and trying to soak up any residual warmth from where Rakan was sitting. Then, she starts pacing.

He’d let her know if they got somewhere. In just a few minutes, this whole experience would be over.

Then Rakan’s chattering suddenly stops, and she continues her idle stretching of her legs a few seconds longer before looking suspiciously over towards the cave entrance.

“Rakan?” Xayah peers over at their tunnel. He had been excited a minute ago, yelling about being able to feel the outside, but then he had gone abruptly silent. That was unlike him – unless he had dug the hole enough and had wiggled through to the outside. That was the only explanation. Xayah drops the sleeping bag, stretches her back one final time then sticks her head in the tunnel and cranes her head up, expecting daylight – or moonlight, she’s not sure whether it’s day or night.

What she sees is snow. Fluffy white and packed hard, it has completely filled their escape tunnel two feet from her face.

Rakan was still in there. He’s trapped somewhere amongst the snow, in all that white.

“Rakan!!” She digs her bare hands into the snow, ripping it out and dropping it in the cave with panicked abandon. After the first minute she still can’t see him, and her hands are numb from cold. Then she starts counting the seconds. Had he taken a good breath first? How long could he hold it?

Ten seconds .

Another six handfuls of snow. Nothing. No sign of him.

“You overzealous idiot, if you’re not okay–“

She swears loudly, shoving her hands back into the cursed white.

Thirty seconds .

Her hands are burning, prickling from the chilled newer. Still she claws at the pile. Looking for a piece of him with each scrape. What if she was remembering the tunnel wrong? Digging in the wrong place? Wrong direction?

One minute .

Then she sees a foot.

One minute ten .

Grabbing his ankles, she pulls as hard as she can. He moves out a tiny bit, a few inches at most. Then, nothing, sticking on some obstacle she can’t see, resistance she can’t fight. Xayah clears a little more snow from either side and tries again.

“Don’t worry Rakan. I’ll get you out this time. I’m stronger than you think.” Xayah blows warm breath on her hands, trying to get sensation back for better grip.

One minute thirty .

She pulls again, throwing all her weight into the effort.

This time, please , she thinks, she had to get him out now.

There’s force fighting against her, pull, pull pull –

And something gives, a jolt as she manages to pull him free as well as a couple armfuls worth of snow from the wall, spilling out onto the cave floor. She lands hard on her bottom the same time he flops onto the rock ground.

“Rakan? You okay?” She drops to her knees beside him and gives him a few good shakes, he’s limp, dead weight when she tries to lift him. His muscularly dense dancer body was a pain in the ass to try to drag; if she had back pain tomorrow from the effort she’d smother him again herself.

Turning him over onto his back first, giving another slap to his cheek, then grabbing his jaw and wiggling his head back and forth. His skin is a bit chilled to the touch, but he wasn’t blue in the lips. A bit pale, but no sign of early frostbite.

“Wake up. Wake up. Come on Rakan, I’m not hauling your heavy-ass out of here.” She didn’t think she would even be capable of dragging him out, heavy as he was. She slides a hand to his neck. There’s a nice slow pulse there, beating steadily. It’d have been a big surprise if his heart stopped from just a little smothering, she’s sure the kinky bastard had probably had a lot worse than that on some of his more adventurous sessions with the locals whenever they were near a town. Right?

Maybe she needs to do mouth to mouth? Foolishly she looks both ways as if there was someone observing them, before ditching the scowl and leaning in to hover over him. She takes his head in her hands to hold it steady and uses her thumb to push down on his chin, forcing his lips a little open.

At this touch his eyes twitch and flutter open, bright aqua still luminous even in the dark. Xayah jerks away; his feathers weren’t glowing, he was soaked and cold, and still she had to take a breath when he focuses on her; taken aback by his natural something.

“Ah –“ He swallows, then coughs a few times, a short fit before gasping and grinning up at her, hardly even phased. Nothing ever did. “Wow that was inconvenient. Thanks Xayah. You’re my hero~”

“You owe me.” She hides her sigh of relief with a poke. “Try not to be so reckless again before we’ve even escaped please. I can’t do this shit again.”

“Roger that. Were you worried?” He sits up, still shaking like a leaf. Stretching his shoulders, he shakes his full body with a ‘brrrrr’ sound, sending snow and ice that was sticking to him to the floor.

“No.” She says shortly while turning her head away. Why she felt the need to lie was beyond her, but it was passing though her lips before she took the chance to even think about what she wanted to say. Still, replying like this was too obvious, so she adds;

“You’re too stubborn to die to something so dumb.”

Rakan grins at her again, and his smile warms her from the inside out.

“You bet - though I think the word you mean is magnificent.”

Xayah shrugs. He must be feeling good if he can joke around as he was. Suddenly, Rakan claps.

“Alright! Back to digging! You want to get out by tonight, right? Er, today? I don’t really know what time it is.” Rakan goes back to the tunnel, completely unfazed. In hardly any time he had half of the tunnel cleared again, pushing back the snow for Xayah to shove to the side. She was keeping a closer eye on him this time.

“Didn’t you see outside before you got snowed on?”

“It’s dusk. Or dawn. One of those two.” His voice is a bit muffled from the snow absorbing half the sound. Xayah watches him continue moving farther and farther into the tunnel. “I got it!”

“You’re outside?”

“No I found my rocks!”

Despite herself, she laughs. “Well at least dig with them! Now they’re good for something.”

“They were always good for something!” He protests. Xayah scoffs.

“Sure they were.”

She can sense he’s pouting in the tunnel, even when she can’t see his face. Work starts to go a bit quicker now he has rocks to assist with the scooping.

It takes what feels like another half-hour before Rakan shouts back to her:

“Xayah! I think I’m close again to the outside!”

This was it. They’d be free soon. This whole thing would be over. Somehow it makes her feel a bit melancholy.

“Well don’t make it collapse again!”

She gathers up what’s not in Rakan’s backpack and shoves it all back in, staring wistfully at the sleeping bag a moment before rolling it up, tightening the straps to keep it in its compact state.

“Rakan?” She runs back to the tunnel and looks up. She can mostly only see his feet and lower legs. He pushes through again and she sees him start crawling and he goes out of view entirely. Following after him, she leaves the backpack and sleeping bag to crawl up to the outside. Frigid air blows at her face once she gets close to the end and Rakan reaches down to help pull her out.

The night sky is clear, not a cloud in sight while a half moon lights up the snowy landscape and makes it a bit easier to navigate. Rakan’s stretching his arms to the sky, then doing a couple spins, a few flips; she suspects he intentionally neglects to stick the landing of the last flip so he can land into the snow back-first.

She can relate to his exaltation. It feels great to stretch, to jump, to see the space and great amounts of room now allotted to them.

Only the top third of the tree she had stood by the day before remained unburied from the avalanche. Thin, brittle branches. It would be hard to start a fire with them. Dismally Xayah looks down at her feet and the several metres of snow that stood between her and her supplies – assuming they hadn’t been ‘washed away’ by the avalanche.

Logically, she knows the chances of her things remaining nearby is non-existent.

“I hope some needy traveller passing through here eventually finds my stuff. I didn’t have anything private in there, but still.” The loss of their food, money and her waterskin stung a bit.

At least they travelled light. That was one positive to the situation. If they found a nearby town and stocked up soon she’d be set.

“Look on the bright side! It feels good to be out, huh?” Rakan grins at her, snow sticking to his hair and melting just as fast.

“What do you think? I’ve never been so happy to see the moon.” Xayah squints as she looks in the distance, searching for any lights down low in the valley. Neither direction yielded any results. “Do you remember if there’s any towns nearby?”

“None ‘within an hour’ close that I remember. Maybe a few hours, if we don’t get lost.”

“I see.” She replies stiffly.

Getting lost in the dead of the night with Rakan in the middle of winter wasn’t an appealing option. Their map had been in her backpack too, of course.

“What do you want to do?” Rakan watches her for guidance, still energetic and in a good mood even with all the setbacks of the day. She envies it.

“You can go get water – from a river or something this time, don’t try to melt it yourself! – and I’ll see if I can get a fire started.” She glowers at the meager branches the barren oak tree had to offer. “I’m not very optimistic though.”

Rakan laughs. “When are you ever?”

Xayah rolls a quick snowball and lobs it at him. He ducks and it misses, him easily dodging it and retaliating with two more. She squeals when it hits her neck and sends cold flakes melting down into her clothes. She drags snow and roughly packs it together in a few seconds and throws the clump with two hands. It hits him head-on and explodes into powder, but it doesn’t look like he made any move to dodge it.

“Wait,” He says, shaking snowflakes free of his body like a dog would water. “Do I really have to pour out the sunshine? It’s pretty hard to get, you know. Not sure if I’ll have curried enough favour to get another fill-up next time we go by Kashuri.”

“Yes you’ll have to dump it!” She gives him a disbelieving look. “We can’t drink alcohol all day while we’re travelling.”

Rakan pauses. “You sure?”

“Yes!”

Rakan sadly regards the bottle and unplugs it, takes a few deep chugs, not even balking from the burn. He’s going to drink it all, she realises, and she dives for the waterskin.

“Rakan stop!”

He pauses only a second to utter; “Why? I don’t want to waste it.” Before raising it up again for another swig.

“At least let me have another bit then if you’re just going to chug it all.”

“Really?” He offers it to her and she accepts it, takes a few mouthfuls slowly and lets the burn spread from her tongue to her gut. After two drinks she feels adequately warmed, and hands it back to Rakan after wedging the cork back in. It’s still a third full.

He gives her a final wink before running off down the mountainside, calling I won’t be long!

Tearing off pieces of the tree she could reach was as tedious as expected. Most of the pieces were brittle and half-frozen, not that amendable to being caught alight. She grabs as much as she can anyway and tosses them all into a pile, mumbling apologies to the trees as she did so.

As she thought it didn’t light up so much as smoulder. They don’t have anything for kindling either, so she ends up staring unhappily at the sad, blackening pile while she waits for Rakan to return.

Their new plan; finding a settlement human or vastayan, restocking on supplies and then another meeting with the Xan’Fai. Maybe. If they don’t give up and just travel south instead. Winter was always going to be less productive travel-wise, but it doesn’t frustrate her any less.

Eventually her gathered twigs stop smoking, but it wasn’t like it was giving off any heat anyway. Xayah huddles in her feathers and again thanks the stars that there’s not much wind tonight.

-_-_-

It takes an hour before he returns; full canteen in one hand, large silver-scaled pike in the other with hair and clothes sopping wet to match. The tips of his hair already look frozen, spiked and icy.

“Rakan. What the hell happened?” She thought he’d be smarter than trying to wash up in sub-zero temperatures but if there’s anything she should know by now is that Rakan always loved to surprise. He lifts the fish proudly.

“I saw it in the river while getting the water. It’s free food Xayah, too good to pass up! Besides I know you didn’t want chocolate for supper again.” He looks at her small pile of blackened twigs, then back to the fish still slightly wiggling in his grip. “No luck with the fire, huh? Well, we can just save it for later. It shouldn’t go bad, it’s like what, true ice temperatures out here?”

Then he tosses the fish into the nearest pile of fluffy snow. It sinks a bit, flopping lightly in the cold.

“Are we staying here the night?” He asks nonchalantly then, not even acting like someone whose clothes were actively starting to freeze onto their body.

“Uh, I guess?” Xayah considers asking; are you alright? Do you need anything? Then in the same vein of thought considers going out and exerting herself with cutting down a tree with her feather daggers just so they had a chance at a proper fire.

“Perfect! Well I’m going back into the cave. Yell out if you need me!” He passes their canteen to her, and she almost yelps as their fingers brush. Unsurprisingly they’re frigid cold, not even feeling like the flesh of a living creature, and the canteen weighs just as heavy as it was before. Did he forget to get water?

Before she could ask he dives down their hand-dug tunnel like a seal on its belly, wiggling back into what was once their prison.

Xayah stares after him a moment, then back to the empty pass and her failed attempt at a fire. Didn’t seem like a much of a choice. She follows back after him. The thought of another night in there didn’t seem so bad now that she can clearly see their way to the outside.

Once back down it takes a second for her eyes to readjust. She opens the canteen and takes a test swallow, and isn’t all that surprised when she tastes a smooth liquid, ice cold with a taste of orange.

“Couldn’t find water, but you found a fish?” She asks while shaking the waterskin so the sloshing could be heard. This time she managed to stifle the cough from the sharp alcohol.

He laughs, a little sheepish.

“What’s wrong with one last night of fun? We can stop by the river and get water tomorrow as we travel.” Abruptly his face goes serious. “But really, you don’t wanna know what I had to do to get that sunshine. I realllllly don’t want to waste it.”

Xayah sighs, but it was his after all. It didn’t seem right making him throw out something this expensive. Besides, they could still melt snow in their hands for one more night if they really needed it.

“Well, it is pretty good.” She takes another shot and questions the fermenting process of such a strong brew. She couldn’t remember meeting any alcohol craftsmen, but Rakan just had a way with networking with people. It worked fast at least; she already could feel a bubbly relaxation wash over her, smoothing away her stress with an artificial cheer.

Temporarily done with the conversation, Rakan starts to undress. Xayah watches his feathercloak, wet and useless dissolve as he wills his magic to change its form; a master artisan at work. Her fingers turn to claws, gripping the lumpy waterskin harder.

He doesn’t stop at the cloak. He discards his outer jacket too, double-lined shirt and undershirt. Without hesitation he moves to the feet wrappings while moving like it’s some fluid dance, untying the bows and freeing the lower legs of his pants from the secure cloth. Xayah realises what’s next and clears her throat.

“What are you doing?” Her voice cracks a little, so she coughs once and takes a quick drink from their waterskin before speaking again. It doesn’t help; she still feels strangely parched. Even after a follow-up gulp and clearing of the throat she still feels a bit flustered.

“Gonna get warm and dry off.” Rakan says simply, too occupied by the lacings on his winter pants to properly have eye contact.

“Do you mind?” She tries shooting an unimpressed look his way, but she suspects the effect is lost on someone who was shameless.

“Not at all.”

“No I mean – “ she stutters but is ignored as Rakan shoves his hands under the waistband of his pants and starts shimmying the fabric downwards.

“ -Nevermind.” Xayah mutters, accepting her fate. It’s not like she hadn’t seen skin from Rakan before, it’s just that somehow it seems a bit different right now, alone together in a dark cave rather than from far away, casting side glances at a performer on a stage.

They bathe separately, they sleep separately. She was off-limits to him, though he offered himself to her at every opportunity with her constant assurance of rejection. Why would he do this? Why does she feel this way? This was uncomfortable territory; from her teenage-hood up to now she’d been ignoring this.

She didn’t need it, it was a useless distraction, a pointless time-sap. Revenge had been the original goal, after that she wasn’t sure where her life would go. With maturity came perspective, and her bloodthirst morphed into something slightly more respectable to say aloud.

But Rakan was here now, in danger of frostbite and the memory of having him almost suffocate earlier still left her own chest feel uncomfortably tight like it was herself that had been without air.

Xayah didn’t hate him. He had begrudgingly graduated from useful annoyance to trusted acquaintance to somewhat-fond companion when she wasn’t looking. She suspects he’ll dig his talons deeper if she looks away long enough.

This didn’t count, their time here was like a dumb, stupid dream. Therefore nothing here would have consequence once they left this place in the morning. That’s what she chose to believe.

So she might as well enjoy the show .

The pants gone, he’s left with just a loincloth. Winter hasn’t deconditioned his body much, his legs were still thick with corded muscle – how could they not, with all the jumping around he does – ass toned like he did nothing but squats.

It triggers a not-unpleasant tingling in her gut and in her loins. She’s not used to dealing with feelings like this. Xayah bites her lip and sighs with exasperation. Then he chuckles, so soft her ears flick to catch it.

“What’s so funny?” she asks only a little defensively. It’s not like he knew.

“Nothing!” He responds jovially, finally stretching, flexing his back and arms before crawling over to the sleeping bag, unrolling it and slithering in.

After that he no longer acknowledges her. How dare he?

Xayah growls and drops the canteen, finally flicking down her hood and ridding her own cloak, her own sweater, tossing her hair back after a quick finger-comb and retying it tighter. Foot wrappings she aggressively kicks off, leggings, wool dress leaving her in her underclothes.

“What are you doing?” His attention was finally on her again, though he was huddled so far down into the sleeping bag his face was hardly visible.

“You need to warm up, right? Skin to skin is the best way.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Xayah struggles not to bite her cheek as she waits for his response.

“Uh – Sure! Great! Come on in!” He sounds a little surprised but not nervous or any shade of confused. How was he so unflappable?

With determination she strides over to the sleeping bag, yanks the opening towards her and aggressively shoves a foot in, sliding herself down until she’s flush with his body, cold as it was. She’d show him.

“Spirits above you’re like a block of ice!” She gasps. She’d expected it, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“I went diving for fish in the middle of winter. Of course I am.”

“Well, no excuses. I’m not that good of a heater, so you better hurry up and get warm.” Xayah tries her hardest not to shiver, and the sunshine seems to help her ignore the abrasive, sudden temperature change.

Rakan laughs.

“I’ll do my best. Are we lying back to back?” He’s already respectably starting to shift position.

“No.” She shakes her head, back to back wasn’t going to cut it tonight. “Lie on your back.”

They’re already facing each other while lying sideways, so she pushes him lightly and he easily follows her hand down. Once Rakan was on his back she crawls over him, awkwardly placing her arms around him and settling onto his broad chest.

After a few seconds his arms go from tight at his sides to wrapping around her hard, pressing her soft body into him like a heat hungry sponge.

It was cold but nice. His strength was evident in his arms, his wide stature, healthy physique. Cozy contentment settles over her as one of his hands rests at her spine, fingertips gliding up and down. She should push him off, or snap to not be so familiar, but it seems so unnecessary.

He’s still chilly, but he’s quickly warming up. Soon he probably won’t need her presence at all.

Not that she needs to leave. They shared last night without… much incident, so tonight shouldn’t be a problem.

No.

They’d stay like this only till he warms up, then go back to the way they slept the night before. Only until then. Back to back was a little uncomfortable, the space more than a little restricting but for dignity’s sake it would suffice.

On the other hand, lying like this was a bit more spacious but they were still forced close. She can hear his heartbeat throbbing in slow, steady beats when she rests her head down.

Was he not nervous at all? Not worked up at having her so close? It’s practically an insult. Didn’t he always say things likeI ache for your love Xayah, or, being close to you makes me the happiest in the world. All while batting his eyes and on both knees. It didn’t seem this way now.

It makes her wilt quickly, sunshine-fueled bravado draining to nil. Her own heart was going a mile a minute in her ears but Rakan didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

She squirms a bit, uncomfortably so and he reacts by hugging her tight and forcing her still for a few seconds.

“Why are you so nervous? I swear on my Grandfather’s life that I won’t try anything. Or do you want another drink of the sunshine?”

“No thank-you. I think…” She closes her eyes and it feels vaguely like she’s floating, and opening her eyes again centres her so fast it’s somewhat jarring. “I’ve enough, I think.”

“Mhm. It is a pretty strong drink. Strong like you.”

“Like me?” She laughs. “Really? You think so?”

“Of course like you.” He insists while his left hand presses down on her mid-back, weight resting firm like a comforting tether. “I’ve never met any woman stronger. Though I can’t drink you, I’m sure if I did you’d pack a stronger punch than the sunshine.”

“…Are you saying I’m intoxicating?” Xayah snorts. “That’s so stupid! You’re losing your edge.”

“Am I?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

There’s heat in her face, but it’s not from the sunshine. Xayah turns her face back away with a scoff and continues resting on his chest, closing her eyes in lieu of a response. She wonders briefly how such a dumb thing made her feel better, but that was Rakan for you. Full of surprises and charisma. He’s starting to give off heat now, finally, though his feet remain chilled. She doubts either of them would be getting out of the sleeping bag once he’s fully warmed though.

Is that all there was to it? This was what the big fuss was about ? A mate, a lover for either just the nights or even more scandalously, during daylight or in public.

It’s easier to think of it now, with over a cup of sunshine in her blood; companionship she was so wary about quickly becoming a luxury she couldn’t imagine living without.

Rakan feels nice to hold, and she can’t begin to even think about the severity of that thought. It was comfortable. He was always offering himself up to her like a dessert on a silver platter. It’s all ironic for him, a game as always, watching her reaction and adapting just as he does for everyone else. She was simply a harder lock to pick than others. It’s funny when she thinks about it; for most people they know Rakan as the artist, the song-weaver, the dancer. He is theirs during the pleasure hours; whether during a performance, or for a night in bed. But their relationship is the opposite; he is hers during the day: a platonic, synergy-filled working relationship striving towards a goal.

It is funny in a way, but she doesn’t laugh.

To him, perhaps she seems asleep by this point – it’s been minutes since either of them has spoken and she’s been so still, hardly daring to move even when she breathes – because he shifts. Then suddenly for the briefest of moments she feels his breath in her hair, then there’s lips being pressed to her scalp – and oh spirits – he’d just kissed her, it only lasting a second before Rakan returns his head back down flat with a content sigh.

What could she do? Her heart’s racing like she’s in battle but it’s a happy feeling even with the lacing of fear, and she can’t bring herself to shove him away now that she’s warm, comfortable and buzzed. It’s as formal as a kiss to the hand, really, if she thinks about it, so she doesn’t need to have the talk with him again about boundaries. Perhaps if he gets too familiar too often she can snap at him, but not over this and certainly not now. It all makes so much sense when she thinks about it this way. This whole event would be forgotten by daylight, just as his fleeting fancy for her – though that was ever stronger during these stretches of isolated travelling. Once they found themselves near friendly people again his interest would wander elsewhere and all would return to normal.

Unbidden in the idea that perhaps, just perhaps in the future they could make exceptions again. During taxingly cold nights, or during certain rare periods of the year when her body found itself lonesome for a partner. Maybe, she fuzzily thinks, it wouldn’t do much harm if it was like this sometimes – very rarely of course, wouldn’t do to get Rakan used to such privilege – but it was contact all the same. That’s the extent she’ll ever get, she thinks. Someone like her can't afford much else.

For tonight though, maybe she can believe in love.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

With the coming of morning so did her senses return. Nothing was said; Rakan didn’t even tease her about it. Yet the peeling apart of half-naked bodies and the shuffling free of bedding was made awkwardly entirely – she suspects – on her part.

The sun on fresh snow made her throbbing head easily ten times worse, but when Rakan smiles understandingly and offers her water from his newly rinsed-out canteen it doesn’t seem nearly as bad.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Two rooms for one night, please.” Xayah stands in front of the clerk at the inn’s front desk, tapping her foot impatiently.

This inn had only taken seven hours of treading through metre-high snow to get to. By the time they had reached the right valley night had fallen, and the last hour of their trip had been traversed by starlight.

Making it to the village in time left her feeling strangely bittersweet.

The clerk eyes her up head to toe, then very obviously she does the same to Rakan, who grins at her and waves. By the time her attention goes back to Xayah her face is a little pink. Even humans find him handsome. Annoyance surges through her, and she fists the fabric of her cloak to avoid stabbing a feather down into the nicely polished desk.

This village is primarily in human territory, she doubts they saw Vastayan patrons very often. They’re overtly chimeric today, not having the energy to attempt to do much about hiding it. Xayah’s seen this type of reluctance before; and immediately she wishes she’d entertained Rakan’s hour-earlier jest about just making an igloo. If there’s some proper Vastaya village nearby, hidden among all this snow, she doesn’t know where it is.

“…We can spare one room.” The clerk finally says, momentarily finding the record-book in front of her very interesting. “We’re pretty full tonight, on account of the weather.”

“I’m sure you are.” Xayah replies curtly. She can see a saloon through an open door at one end of the entrance hall, and it doesn’t look very lively. She’d guess at only about two or three patrons at most based upon what she can hear. By the way Rakan’s ears are minutely flicking next to her, she’d imagine he was probably thinking the same thing.

Like an extension of her thoughts he slides past her to lean an elbow on the registry-desk, shooting another smile at the young woman, slipping into this new mood like he would his dancing clothes.

“Hey sweetheart, we’ve been travelling all day, I’m sure you can find one more bed in this big, fancy place for us. We’re real quiet – you won’t even know we’re here.” His words are smooth and thick as honey, oozing with his charm; “I can throw in something extra, if that helps.” Then he winks at her, the killing shot to a sitting duck.

Suddenly, she smiles back, all eager and overcome like some tween schoolgirl. She had melted like old butter left out in the sun. Xayah rolls her eyes. So predictable it was sad.

The girl looks briefly at the ledger again, but it was such a short glance she’s sure the dumb creature hadn’t even really checked it. She taps some random box on the page with her quill, eyes still fixed on Rakan.

“Ah, I think I have something else available… I didn’t see it before now. I think I can set you up. Do you want food brought to you? It’s an extra silver piece for hot supper but I’ll give it to you for free if you join me. You’re a traveller, right? I’m sure you have good stories.” She’s leaning in over the counter, matching the distance and degree set by Rakan, attempting a flirty-tone of her own.

The worst part about spectating these sorts of things was that it’s impossible for Xayah to tell whether Rakan’s genuinely interested. Sometimes he leads people on and breaks off as soon as he gets what he wants, but other times he keeps it going to an absolutely obscene extent. Something about him sitting next to this stranger, eating a hot meal together late at night makes her execrably angry, then stomach-twistingly sad. It would make sense that he’d be wanting for a bedfellow tonight, considering the length of his current dry spell.

“You’ve got a deal!” Rakan says brightly. “A story for two free meals? We’d be mad to turn that offer down. Right, Xayah?” He turns to her, and the clerk’s lips turn down briefly, but straightens back into a forced smile the moment Rakan looks back to her.

Xayah had enough.

“ – No, actually, I changed my mind.” She put her palm to Rakan’s chest and pushes him lightly back from the desk, changing to step in front of him. “I’m good for the single room, and I’ll pay for both our suppers in full. Just don’t charge in with torches in the middle of the night, please.”

Slamming the four silver pieces on the wooden desk was one of the easier purchases she ever made. She stares down the inn clerk until she begrudgingly slides over a bronze key; Xayah takes it with a cold smile.

“What room?”

“Second floor, last door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

Then turns and leaves in long strides, passing Rakan with a light shove, being careful not to look at him proper. He didn’t deserve her worry. If he wanted to hang around with warmer company than her, than that was his choice. Yes, he was flirting for her, it was to get them around the human discrimination but…

Why did it upset her ? It didn’t make any sense. The last few days were just a dream, it didn’t count for anything, and she knew that. He knew that.

She gets to the top of the staircase before she takes a breath and reflects, sighing out her frustration. It had been a long day. A long few days. He owes her nothing and he didn’t deserve her ire; she’ll shove away this dirty feeling and think about apologising, maybe, when she sees him again in the morning. For now, she’ll eat and bed-down alone, and Rakan would be with her again in the morning. Like always.

Light feet hit the landing just behind her, and a hand she’d become accustomed to takes her own.

Xayah freezes in place but doesn’t react further.

“To our room?” Rakan asks quietly, a cautious question. The grasp of his fingers are light on hers; she’s not sure if he’s propositioning to hold her had or if this grip was simply to stop her from fleeing out of reach to a locked room. If she said no, she knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. He always understood.

And yet …

“Yeah.” She pulls her hand out of his gently, not a complete rejection, but right now it’d be the best he would get. Her other hand squeezes an imprint of the key into her palm. “To our room.”

Xayah doesn't look back at him before continuing down the hall, but when he follows without hesitating she can feel that he's smiling.

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