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Evening was falling on their little spot in Faerûn, just a tiny clearing between boulders and scrubs. The first stars twinkled as the last of the sun dipped behind the horizon.
Gale stood by the campfire, a smaller one for cooking right beside it and stirred the contents of the pot they'd haggled out of a vendor just a few days ago. Finally, he was able to do more than just roast bits of meat and vegetables over open flame. Hopefully the next merchant had a few spices he could purchase.
It still didn't come even close to his kitchen in Waterdeep, but needs must.
Beggars can't be choosers, or something like that the old saying went. And right now, he and the ragtag group of people he travelled with were even worse off than some beggars he'd met.
They only had the clothes on their back, a few spare rations they had bartered for and a squirming little tadpole in each of their heads.
At least he wasn't alone in this. Despite some…misgivings about certain aspects in his current company, he was surprisingly glad to have them. And if the last few days had taught him anything, it was that the time he had spent in utter seclusion in his tower had cast a coldness over his being.
A whine to his left made him look up.
"Oh no, Scratch," he gently chided the white dog that had become the newest addition to their party. A dirt and saliva smeared ball between its teeth, tail wagging expectantly. "That does not belong near our meal."
Scratch dropped the ball and nudged it closer to Gale's feet.
"I'm sorry my friend, but I can't play with you right now. The others are hungry." He nudged the ball back to Scratch with his boot. "Perhaps, one of the others would like to play while they wait for their meal?"
The dog tilted its head as if contemplating his words, then snorted and took off, offering the slobbery toy to another by dropping it into Tav's lap.
Gale's heart jumped, when her peals of laughter rang through the camp at the invitation to play. She set aside her lute and picked up the ball with her elegantly clawed fingers.
"Want me to throw that for you?" she asked, her voice - even when speaking - lyrical, like she was singing her words.
It was that voice that had drawn him to her at first as she sang quietly each evening at the edge of their camp until either Wyll or Karlach asked her to come closer to the fire and sing something to lighten their mood.
Tav - a bard by profession - tended to indulge them whenever they asked, offering a bright smile along with a tale or a song.
And it was that voice, that had slipped into his dreams - and waking hours - like a warm spring breeze, coaxing the first flowers from the frozen soil his folly had turned his life into. A winter of solitude.
She must have noticed his gaze, as she turned to face him over the flames. Her mismatched eyes dancing with good humour as she said, "Do I have something on my face?"
"No," he replied, unsure if it was the heat of the flames or something else that warmed his cheeks. "It is impeccable as always."
Again, that bell-laugh - bright and melodious. Her unbound hair so much like the fire - red and gold and seemingly untameable.
His eyes fell to her lips, just for a heartbeat. And he remembered the little lesson in magic they shared just recently.
Foolish of course, Tav could work her own magic. With a thrum on her lute, she could bolster them in a fight and cut sharply into their enemies with a well-placed remark on their questionable parentage.
But the moment a few nights ago, when their minds connected - as the power of the ether was channelled through them both - he could feel her, see her thoughts.
And she knew that he could.
He had seen it in her eyes, the wicked tilt of her painted lips.
Lips he could feel on his - only in his mind - warm and soft. Not demanding but asking. Always a man to indulge the curious seekers, he had let her ask until the connection faded and the cold of the night pressed closer. And their lesson, as well as their mind-kiss had come to an end.
Still, in his heart the seed of warmth she had planted had started to grow despite the looming threat of the all-consuming orb in his chest. A vague vision of a future with her beside him - somewhere safe, and warm, and with decidedly more kisses.
It was a foolish notion he entertained. The best he could offer her, was to be as far away from her when this monster lurking between his ribs broke free.
He couldn't stand the thought of her being ripped from this world. Someone so rare, so bright and vibrant.
"If my face is so impeccable," she let her tongue roll over the syllables, as if the word were a delicacy that one should sample - slow, letting it melt in her mouth. "Then why are you staring, sir wizard?"
He laughed softly, hoping he could speak despite the lump in his throat. "Just wondering if you knew that famed Waterdeep ballad? And if you were gracious enough to play it while I cook?"
Her pale pink tail flicked once, brushing against her legs. He had never been more fascinated by it than now, it almost seemed to have a mind of its own.
"Hmm, let me think." She reached for her lute, pulling a string or two, humming under her breath.
The she shook her head and tried a different set of notes.
A quick nod, and she started playing. The tune, almost too simple for his elaborate tastes, wrapped itself around him, making him wonder if she infused the song with magic. But he felt nothing stirring in the ether.
"Remarkable, I-", he murmured, then her voice joined the merry sounds of her lute, and the words fled his tongue.
He forgot the relentless threat in his chest. Forgot time and space. Forgot the face of the goddess that used to hold him captivated.
In this moment, the woman before him - unkempt, pants smeared with dog saliva and dirt - was all that mattered.
She was like an awakening.
A new spring.
Something he would hold on to when that final moment came.
And the icy embrace of nothingness would claim him.