The weather had warmed, but it was still cold outside. Wind howled and threatened to get into the rooms that she and Panther shared when at the inn.
Her dreams were as restless as form was. Just as the sun was starting to cast the early morning in a pallid, ghost-blue light, s'jira woke and lay there in the bed for a while. She listened to Panther breathe and then slowly, she turned over onto her side. There was an urge to reach out for him. To see just how much he was or was not hurt by the previous night's happening.
Some matters could easily surprise her and this had been one of them. She had not expected Kruger to come into the inn and do everything within his power to taunt and pull Panther into fighting him. There was talk of honor, of standing accountable, of Panther abandoning her.
Panther refused to fight the blacksmith, but actions had been taken to block and keep Kruger from doing true harm. S'jira had told him of that past relationship, that it had not worked out since her heart would not ever let go fully of Panther, and even when she went for months to Llothgar to seek out her sister. Even of Kruger finding a love a few months later to ease the pains she must have put at the blacksmith's feet.
But to seek out a fight, it had surprised her. She had listened and even found the courage to speak up at times as Kruger's words berated and sparked with upset at Panther. Panther had been gone, but it had not been his fault. No more than it had been s'jira at fault at being gone too long in her homeland without word to Kruger -- but not all of that tale had been told to either of them, or the reason it had taken almost four months to make it back to RhyDin.
And he had called s'jira a little girl at one point when trying to draw Panther into a fight. Little girl. S'jira breathed and sat up very carefully on the bed, trying hard not to jostle it and wake the one next to her.
The small woman could not think of five times, in her entire life, that her anger had been so stirred. She was not a child. And the upset faded away to watch Panther sleep. A smile gentled and gaze endearing. She could have wept to have him back and so very near to her.
What perhaps worried her more were two other things: Kruger kept talking to a bronze bust of Talitha Lee, The Watcher some called her...and that he seemed to want the fight with Panther so badly.
Then thoughts turned again, of Panther. He rarely spoke of them, but he wondered if he thought of Mika and his children in the missing of them as she had of Panther when he was gone. A heart was not at all jealous. She knew better, but knew that he must have still held love for them all in his heart.
Surely, though, both Kruger and Panther had not come out of the altercation without some kind of bruises or else. Her smile slipped away even as she left the bed. Flesh was clothed by nothing and the room's chill gripped her swiftly.
As soon as toes and the balls of her feet met with the flooring, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and headed for where she kept a few of her dresses. Cold as the day might be, she put on two layers with one of white and dark, heavy green over that. Her belt was buckled and she brushed her hair.
There was need for food, drink, and a few other things from the area of the bar, the kitchen, and one of the storage rooms in the back hall's way downstairs.
In quiet, she closed the door to those rooms they kept there. She would not be gone long.
Her dreams were as restless as form was. Just as the sun was starting to cast the early morning in a pallid, ghost-blue light, s'jira woke and lay there in the bed for a while. She listened to Panther breathe and then slowly, she turned over onto her side. There was an urge to reach out for him. To see just how much he was or was not hurt by the previous night's happening.
Some matters could easily surprise her and this had been one of them. She had not expected Kruger to come into the inn and do everything within his power to taunt and pull Panther into fighting him. There was talk of honor, of standing accountable, of Panther abandoning her.
Panther refused to fight the blacksmith, but actions had been taken to block and keep Kruger from doing true harm. S'jira had told him of that past relationship, that it had not worked out since her heart would not ever let go fully of Panther, and even when she went for months to Llothgar to seek out her sister. Even of Kruger finding a love a few months later to ease the pains she must have put at the blacksmith's feet.
But to seek out a fight, it had surprised her. She had listened and even found the courage to speak up at times as Kruger's words berated and sparked with upset at Panther. Panther had been gone, but it had not been his fault. No more than it had been s'jira at fault at being gone too long in her homeland without word to Kruger -- but not all of that tale had been told to either of them, or the reason it had taken almost four months to make it back to RhyDin.
And he had called s'jira a little girl at one point when trying to draw Panther into a fight. Little girl. S'jira breathed and sat up very carefully on the bed, trying hard not to jostle it and wake the one next to her.
The small woman could not think of five times, in her entire life, that her anger had been so stirred. She was not a child. And the upset faded away to watch Panther sleep. A smile gentled and gaze endearing. She could have wept to have him back and so very near to her.
What perhaps worried her more were two other things: Kruger kept talking to a bronze bust of Talitha Lee, The Watcher some called her...and that he seemed to want the fight with Panther so badly.
Then thoughts turned again, of Panther. He rarely spoke of them, but he wondered if he thought of Mika and his children in the missing of them as she had of Panther when he was gone. A heart was not at all jealous. She knew better, but knew that he must have still held love for them all in his heart.
Surely, though, both Kruger and Panther had not come out of the altercation without some kind of bruises or else. Her smile slipped away even as she left the bed. Flesh was clothed by nothing and the room's chill gripped her swiftly.
As soon as toes and the balls of her feet met with the flooring, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and headed for where she kept a few of her dresses. Cold as the day might be, she put on two layers with one of white and dark, heavy green over that. Her belt was buckled and she brushed her hair.
There was need for food, drink, and a few other things from the area of the bar, the kitchen, and one of the storage rooms in the back hall's way downstairs.
In quiet, she closed the door to those rooms they kept there. She would not be gone long.