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Ravion
Ravion lay on his back by the fire, staring at the ceiling. He could see the flames out of the corner of his eye, but he still felt cold.
He rolled onto his side and looked at Mellonin, who had fallen asleep. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it was a sad smile. Somehow, even in this safe haven, he could not come by any joy. In some way he realized that he was pushing it away, not allowing it in. This was his punishment.
But he was allowed some small happiness, like watching Mellonin sleep. She was so peaceful when she slept. She was facing away from him: he could see her back rise and fall evenly, her soft, dark hair falling across her shoulders. How long would it be before he was courageous enough to tell her how he felt? He was a Ranger: he had seen battles and injury and death. He had felt the heartbreak of a dying friend. Why did he cower before the rejection of this young woman? Why was he so afraid?
He shook his head ruefully and turned back towards the fire. Perhaps the flames would hold the answers he sought.
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