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A Long Life Ahead

Fyrn

Birds flutter down, collecting the sticks and splinters for their nests.

We watch them, curled together, and then my gaze wanders to the woman I love.

I forget, sometimes, that though she is so large, she is also soft and fragile.

Plucking a wide soft leaf from the tree behind us, I wipe away the sap that still covers the lower half of her face, making her blissful smile glimmer.

She closes her eyes and lets me wipe up the memory of her latest success at making me come.

It’s easy for her …

Sometimes, I think she could touch me once and that would be enough.

My one and only love.

I pass the leaf over her breasts as well, catching up the little drops that have fallen there.

And she lies back against me.

Long legs stretched out, the lower half of her body on its side, her torso twisted so that she can stretch and unbuckle her harness …

I could not have planted a prettier bed of flowers.

She belongs here.

We both know it.

I trace the edge of her lips and the feathered lines there.

She is so young …

and yet, her kind would call her old.

“You were gone longer than usual,” I say, hating each of those days that we lost.

She nods and then tips her face up, catching my lips.

“But I am going to stay longer than usual, too.”

Hope wells, but I bat it down with a laugh.

“I get more than a few hours?” I guess.

“More than a day?”

The longest she’s been with me was a day and a half …

That was the first time she came to me.

The first time one of her kind came to drag her back.

“Much more.” She says, kissing my fingertips.

“I’m tired of sharing you, Tana,” I take my hand from her and smooth my fingers through her mane.

“It feels like more and more of me goes with you each time you go.”

“I’m not going back.” Eyes closed, she leans into my hand.

“I don’t have to leave you ever again.”

It makes my soul ache.

“They’ll come and they’ll make you.” I whisper, trying not to remember the times someone came to drag her back.

“They always do.”

I try not to remember the sight of her with a collar around her neck, and a yeti-made axe in that man’s hand.

The magic in that blade is one of the few that I have no way to withstand.

It’s why dryads never venture into the mountains and yetis rarely find themselves in the danger of a forest.

“Not anymore.” She shakes her head and slips her fingers between mine.

“I melted the axe.”

Those quiet, sleepy words rush over me like a soft wind.

My mind has to chase them to understand.

She melted …

I sit upright, looking down at her.

“You did? You aren’t?”

“That’s why it took so long to come back to you this time. I had to destroy everything that wanted to keep me from you.” She laughs, but it is a rueful sound.

“Building a fire hot enough to melt that axe was the easiest part.”

I watch her face, trying to find something to tell me it’s another of the Goddess’ cruel tricks, but she smiles up at me.

“No axe, no father, no prison warden …” She reaches up and caresses my cheek.

“There’s no one left to drag me back, no more work to do.”

“You’re mine?”

She pulls me down to her again.

“I’m finally all yours.”