[mark12_30]

Nethwador remembered that Ædegard and Argeleafa had walked around the outskirts of the camp the night before. He had envied them, a little. He cast a long, hopeful look towards lady Bella.

She blushed, and looked down, and then spoke to Liornung. "Perhaps another song, or tune? The fire is cheerful, and company of many friends is brighter still."

Nethwador understood her tone if not her words, and knew that she felt unsafe. He was still wild, still unknown, still unpredictable.

But all that could change. He glanced over the grass, then made a wry face. Flowers in midwinter! He must find another offering. In the dark? He made another wry face. He had nothing to give and no light to find a gift by.

He stood, and slowly approached the fire. Liorning and Bella looked up, and smiled to see him approach. He slowed, halted beyond arm's reach, and sat down, gazing at the shimmer of the firelight on her hair and her face.