I raised my hand, beginning to clear a path forward. If it had just been me alone, I probably would have ploughed my way through it, thankful for the cold effort of the task. But the thought of Torrance trying to walk through, or climb over, drifts that came up past her shoulders, made my wings tense in irritation. She’d probably snap her ankle, or that ridiculous little neck of hers.

I refused to look back at her, at her neck. So pathetically skinny and breakable. So smooth-skinned and supple and warm, throbbing with her human heartbeat, constricting under my touch as if unsure whether to swallow, speak, or scream.

I did not need to look back to know she followed. Her footsteps made softly muffled sounds, and her human scent was close behind me, distinct in the crisp air, easily detectable even under the Sionnachan cloak. Her breathing, at first quick and shallow, grew deeper, more rhythmic.

She likes it out here.

That both pleased and greatly annoyed me. Or perhaps the annoyance was more from the fact that I was pleased at all. That I should feel any sort of satisfaction that this human, this prisoner, approved of the world she’d invaded.

“Do you have snow where you come from?” I asked.

I’m just gathering information about her people and planet as part of the interrogation, I told myself, pushing back against the possibility that I was curious specifically about her – her experiences, her life, and what she’d left behind.

She breathed in deeply, then out, before answering.

“Yes.”

I tried to strangle the instant feeling of kinship that single word had created.

“Do you like the snow?” I asked.

So much for strangulation.

I focused on swishing snow out of the way, on moving forward, so that I could not confront the idiocy of the question I’d just asked.

“Yes,” she said again. Something melancholic, maybe wistful, quieted her voice. “I love it.”

Blast it all into the stone sky.

Something in me was nearing desperation. Desperation to remind myself just how different we were. That not a single thing in her should be admired or shared or respected. That we had nothing, nothing in common.

Except she liked the snow. Loved it.

Just as I did.

I had no plan as we walked. I just kept moving forward, towards the treeline, concentrating on carving out the path. I wondered if I’d ever stop, or if I’d just keep going until dawn, Torrance trailing quietly behind me. It was only her sudden intake of breath, and some softly murmured word of surprise, that caused me to halt.

“What is that?” she asked. I followed her gaze to the open structure beside the barn. There was a single sontanna there, the same one I’d seen before. I wondered if we had more of them, taking shelter in the barn with the sotasha, or if this was the only one. I’d been so busy with Torrance and Skalla and Maerwynne that I had very little clue as to what was happening on my own estate.

But I could at least answer her question.

“It’s a sontanna,” I said.

“Can... can we go closer?”

There was something in her voice, some hushed wanting that made my skin feel hot and itchy despite the fact I had no vest or cloak. I regarded her closely, noticing she’d once again changed colour on me. Her cheeks were very, very pink, as was the tip of her nose. But there were no signs of discomfort that I could discern. Her eyes were luminous beneath the starlight, peering out from below the hood I’d put on her, fixed entirely on the sontanna.

I should deny her this.

I knew it. I knew that I should not continue to give way to her, to lose my grip. I’d already let her out of her room for this walk, and I knew I should not give her yet more things she wanted. I knew it, even as I turned my body and started carving a path towards the sontanna.

Torrance hurried behind me, her steps quicker than before, her body close to mine. Her fogging breath and body heat skimmed over my bare back and wings, a ferociously pleasant sensation that I simultaneously despised and ached for.

We reached the sontanna’s enclosure. I murmured steadying words to it, testing its training. It remained calm, and upon closer inspection of the size of its antlers, I concluded she was female. I’ll have to ask Shoshen her name as soon as I get the chance.

I patted her pink and silver neck, and she tossed her head contentedly.

“Any friends in there, girl?” I asked her. “A mate?”

I leaned over, glancing through an opening into the barn. All I saw in there were sotasha and a sleeping hunting hound. No mate, no foal. We’ll have to remedy that soon. Though she was large and strong, I could tell she was young. We’d need to find a mate for her soon. Though sontanna did not naturally live in packs, they were social animals, and they mated for life.

I went back to patting her neck, becoming once again aware of Torrance beside me when she spoke.

“Will he bite me?”

“She’s female,” I corrected.

“Oh. I assumed because of the antlers that... Well, obviously she’d be different than something from Earth. Although, I think female reindeer have antlers, now that I think about it.”

“You have creatures like this where you come from? Earth?”

A shimmering smile touched her lips. With a tightening of my jaw, I realized this was the first time I’d seen Torrance smile without a touch of malice or defiance in the expression. Her countenance was tender, touched with something akin to reverence.

“No. Not like this,” she answered. Her voice was softer than usual, too. No anger in it, no fear or notes of complaint, just something that was far too close to awe-struck affection for my comfort. “We have horses and deer but she’s more like a unicorn, just with antlers.” Her cheeks grew pinker, her voice even sweeter. “She’s like something from a dream.”

So, the human could dream. And she dreamed of beautiful things, things like sontanna with pearlescent coats and manes like morning sky.

I could not remember the last time I’d dreamed.

“What’s her name?”

I did not know, and I was ashamed to admit it to her. Which was absurd, that I would feel shame for anything in front of her, an interloper, a prisoner. But I was. And it only added to my shame that I wanted to lie about it. To come up with a name on the spot, just so that I would not appear to be the sort of man who did not deign to know a name.

But I could not think of an appropriate name, or even a word to act as one. I stared at Torrance, and the only words pounding through my head were ones like soft skin and honey, tiny and willful, bruised and beautiful. No! Stone of the sky, not beautiful, something else, something –

“Will she bite me?” Torrance asked again. Apparently, she’d given up on me answering the name question, and I found myself abhorrently relieved by that. Her small hands had emerged from her cloak and were clasped together in front of her chest, as if she was barely holding herself back from reaching for the creature.

“Yes,” I grunted, knowing it wasn’t true. “Sontanna are notorious for biting insolent females.”

Torrance dropped her hands. The tremulous smile disappeared, her mouth flattening into an expression of shielded disappointment that made something in the vicinity of my chest twang painfully.

“Although,” I said, ignoring the voice inside me that told me to stop, stop now, to let her be disappointed, let her be sad, blast if I cared, “if I held her, she likely wouldn’t.”

Wariness crept into Torrance’s gaze, warring against something that looked like hopeful desire. It was a desire I recognized easily, something almost child-like, pure and innocent, born out of love and loneliness. The tender-hearted need to stroke a beautiful animal, to befriend it, to protect it and be protected.