Neva takes a step back, her gaze never leaving her husband's, where love, mischief, and wildness kindle within his eyes.
Her back meets the soft moss-cushioned trunk of a tree as Rhett closes the distance between them,
bracing one hand beside her head.
He leans in slowly, his warm breath teasing against her lips as her heartbeat quickens, just before he finally kisses her.
Her arms naturally wind around his neck as his mouth moves against hers in an untamed wildness, ever-consuming her into this new chapter of passionate intensity written in strokes of flaming gold and red.
His love defies the world, and the coldness surrounding them as she finds herself pressed against him, his lips trailing soft, lingering
kisses down her neck and shoulder.
"Should I take you right here?" he murmurs, his voice low and roughened with desire.
"No—" A soft gasp leaves her as his teeth graze her skin in a teasing nip.
He curls his fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face to kiss her once more.
And she prays that this ferocious fire of love burning between them, no longer restrained by the world's laws now that they had spoken their sacred vows, might soften, if only for a little while, before wandering
eyes in these unsheltered woods should find and profane their hushed sanctuary.
She places a hand against his chest, easing him gently before meeting his glazed eyes.
"Someone might see us," she whispers, gently caressing his face.
"I don't care," he murmurs.
A smile curls at her lips. "But I care."
His gaze softens. As her fingers brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, he buries his face in the crook of her neck.
A quiet sigh escapes him. "It's your fault... I don't think I'll ever have enough of you."
A soft laugh slips from her lips as her fingers stroke his hair with tenderness. For a little while, they simply linger there,
cocooned in each other's warmth.
It's been three days since they were married. Four, counting today.
They had barely left their home until now, their room, or even their bed... more than content to remain tangled in the sheets,
consumed within each other, while the rest of the world faded away before their love.
Well... it had been cold, and the snow had fallen without pause, only for the heavy clouds to finally part today.
No.... that was merely an excuse.
Even the short walk from their home to the woods had never been enough to leave them cold, nor to keep them apart.
"Was the wait worth it?" she asks softly.
He leans back, meeting her gaze. "Worth every struggle," he says.
"Every fight against the guilt we'd have carried if we'd chosen to defy our faith."
A smile touches her lips. "It might've been easier if we'd saved our first
kiss for our wedding day, though."
He lets out a low groan. "You know that would've been impossible," he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers.
She chuckles, stroking his cheek with her thumb.
"Let's go back home," he whispers, stealing one last kiss before gently lowering
her until her feet meets the forest floor.
"And do what?" she asks, adjusting her dress before slipping her knitted sweater back over her shoulders.
He takes a step back, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.
"Just... continue where we left off."
"What about dinner tonight?" she asks, walking ahead of him with her hands clasped behind her back.
He follows, each step marked by the soft crunch of snow beneath his boots.
A startled gasp escapes her as he sweeps her off her feet in one swift motion.
"You're my dinner tonight," he says, before brushing a gentle kiss across her lips.
Warmth blooms across her cheeks as she smiles, winding her arms around his neck.
"Do you think you could teach me to swim someday?" she asks as he carries her along the narrow path winding between snow-draped pine trees, the darkening, cloud-laden sky heralding another snowy night.
"Sure," he says. "Someday... when the weather's warmer—"
He doesn't finish his words as a scream slices through
the hush of the snow-laden woods.
Their eyes meet, and in that brief, silent exchange of understanding, he gently lowers her onto the snow-layered path.
Her heart stutters as another scream follows, a girl's, loud and desperate.
"Angel," he says, his hand finding hers. "Stay close to me."
Another scream pierces the hush of the darkening woods, and he leads her toward the source of the cries.
Neva struggles to keep pace with Rhett as they weave through the closely spaced trees, where she knows she
could easily lose her way without him.
He slows just enough to let her catch her breath, the screams growing sharper now.
He keeps her slightly behind him as they carefully step toward the source of the cries, his hand instinctively drifting to the gun tucked into the back of his waistband.
Yet, his assessment reveals no sign of an unseen threat. And beyond a break in the trees, a young girl has fallen through the ice of a frozen pond.
She struggles against the icy water, barely clinging to the jagged edge
as the ice continues to crack around her.
"Help... somebody, help..." Her voice has dwindled to a hoarse, trembling whisper.
Her gaze finally lands on them as Rhett searches for a sturdy branch to pull her out.
"Help!" she cries. "Please, help me!"
"We will," Neva says gently, careful not to venture too close to the fractured ice. "Stay calm. You'll be okay."
Finding a branch long and sturdy enough, Rhett inches toward the edge of the frozen pond, testing each
step before shifting his weight.
"Try to kick," he says, crouching at a safe distance before extending the branch toward her. "Pull your weight onto the ice you're holding. But don't try to stand."
The girl, her orange hair soaked and rimed with frost, tries. Bracing her elbows against the edge, she struggles to pull herself up, but she slips back into the icy water.
"I can't—" she cries. "I can't feel my legs."
Worry tightens Neva's chest as her fingers curl into the fabric over her sweater.
"Can you feel your stomach?" Rhett asks.
"I... I think so," she croaks.
"Grab this," he says, extending the branch further. "Use your core. I'll pull you up."
Slowly, cautiously, she grabs hold of the branch, and he draws her toward him, inch by inch, keeping her flat against the ice.
With one final pull, Rhett hauls her onto solid ground and farther from the water's edge.
Neva hurries to her side as the girl lies flat on her back, shivering violently.
Neva slips off her sweater and kneels beside the girl, whose pale cheeks have been drained of all colours.
She can't be more than thirteen.
"It's okay," Neva says, gathering her into her arms. "You're safe now."
"Can I take off your sweater?" she asks gently.
The girl clings to her and gives a weak nod.
Neva carefully peels away the girl's soaked sweater and helps her into her own.
"I'll have to carry her." Rhett slips off his jacket and holds it out to Neva.
"You'll be cold too," he says gently.
Neva helps him gather the trembling child into his arms before slipping on his jacket as she rises to her feet.
"Where's your home?" he asks the girl as they make their way through the darkening woods.
"J-Just... beyond the woods," she murmurs through chattering teeth.
As they hurry along the path winding between the snow-draped pines, feathery snowflakes begin to fall once more.
At the edge of the woods, the path splits in two, the left leading to their home, and the right to the girl's, as she had told them.
Warm light spills through the windows of the cottages lining the snow-covered lane. Near one of the nearest cottages,
the one the child had pointed to, they find three figures gathering outside.
As though noticing their approach, one of the figures flashes a flashlight toward them. Neva raises a hand to shield
her eyes from the sudden brightness.
"My dear Anna!" a middle-aged woman cries out, rushing toward them.
"A-aunt..." Anna murmurs, her voice barely audible. Behind the woman, two figures follow, a chubby, middle-aged man with the flashlight and an older, slender man.
Rhett carefully lowers the child as her aunt reaches them, the woman immediately gathering her into her arms.
"Oh, Lord..." the aunt says, holding her tightly. "What happened, dear?"
"I... I fell—" Anna cries, clinging to her aunt.
"Are you wounded?" the man with the flashlight asks, while the older man with the cane's expression crumples, his worried gaze scanning her for any injuries.
"Father!" Anna cries, stretching her arms toward him.
"My child..." her father whispers, his voice breaking as he pulls her into his arms.
Neva and Rhett remain quietly to the side, watching as the emotional family reunion unfolds before them.
Rhett's eyes find hers, a silent question passing between them: should they leave them to this moment?
Then the woman turns toward them, warmth softening her kind face. "How can we
ever thank you for saving this child's life?"
"It's alright," Neva says with a gentle smile.
"Would you prefer to come inside?" she asks, glancing toward Anna as the man with the flashlight carries her toward the cottage, her father following close behind.
"No, but thank you," Neva gently refuses. "We should leave you to your family now."
Anna's aunt smiles at them. "I must tend to my niece."
Neva nods as the woman gives a slight bow before turning and
hurrying toward the cottage.
She turns toward her husband and finds a faint smile resting on his lips.
"Let's go home, shall we?" he asks, reaching for her hand.
She nods, slipping her fingers into his as he intertwines them with his own.
"Aren't you cold?" she asks, drawing his jacket closer around her shoulders
as they walk the path home, the road ahead dividing toward their cottage.
"Will you warm me up?" he asks.
She looks at him questioningly.
A sheepish smile touches his lips before he steps in front of her and crouches. "Come on. Climb on."
A soft laugh escapes her, but she happily wraps her arms around him.
His hands secure her legs as she settles against him, his heat chasing away the cold as pure white snow drifts around them.
"Don't you get tired of carrying me?" she asks quietly,
drowsiness beginning to pull her under.
"Never," he murmurs playfully.
"By now, you should know I have more than enough stamina for you."
She chuckles. "But I don't have the energy to make dinner."
"I can help," he says. "Or we could always... eat each other for dinner."
A laugh escapes her as she leans in and kisses his cheek. "You're such a pervert."
"How am I a pervert for wanting my wife?" he says, feigned disappointment coloring his tone.
"Fair enough," she sighs, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder.