Word count: 1833
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Their last encounter had ended on a bit of a sour note to say the least. Months passed. The harsh winter brought the southern migration, and dragon trappings became slow and tedious. Finding them became increasingly difficult, but fortunately Drago's temper hadn't gone off the rails too much.
Eret had treaded on eggshells around the man for as long as he could remember, but recently he'd gotten sick of it. More so than usual. Every now and then his scar would ache, but oddly enough when it did he thought of y/n.
He missed her. He missed her sly remarks, her keen eyes filled with mischief and the elegant twirl of her blade - even the swing of her hips. But he knew he'd scared her away. For good this time. Perhaps it was for the best, he told himself. Even if he longed to have her by his side he didn't want her to endure his way of life, let along Drago's rage. He smoothed his hand over the scar on his chest. No, he wouldn't wish that on her.
The silver white snows slowly began to melt away under the warming sun, making way for green buds and early spring flowers. Somehow the blossoming of new life brought him little comfort. It only reminded him of how long it'd been since he last saw her.
Eret sighed when he entered his small sleeping quarter, shutting the spruce door behind him. The only light came from a hanging lantern that swayed gently in the corner. After a long day's work he finally unlatched his sword belt and removed his tunic. He suddenly heard a shuffle to his right, but when he turned around he froze.
"Don't move."
Y/n stood there pointing his own crossbow at him. She gestured with it to the bed, and he slowly took a seat.
"I'm not here looking for trouble."
"Yeah? You pointing a crossbow at me sure seems like trouble."
To Eret's surprise she flicked on the safety and removed the arrow, placing both pieces on a nearby table. The second she did he rushed her. She fought to stay out of his grip, but it only took him a moment to restrain her with an arm around her neck. Well, she didn't expect to win, when it came to pure strength he topped her. But she wasn't here to win.
"I just came- to talk," she gasped, a little out of breath, but Eret didn't cut off her air completely.
"Yakshit," he hissed.
"I put the crossbow away."
"You have a knack for hiding your other weapons."
"Then search me, I got nothing."
He seemed to consider it for a moment. Then he kicked the back of her knees so they buckled, and he firmly guided her to the floor and onto her back. He hovered over her and pinned her wrists in warning.
"Don't move," he commanded.
Y/n kept her arms still as he pulled back and began his search. First he removed her fur boots, then he started patting her down for weapons. She felt heat rush to her cheeks as his calloused hands work their way up her legs, then around her hips and waist. It didn't help that his bare chest was on display. His tanned, toned chest.
She found herself staring at the scar on his left peck. When he crawled over her again she quickly drew her eyes up to his face, and fortunately he didn't seem to notice. He ran a searching hand through her hair, suddenly pulling out a sharp hairpin. Eret held it up in front of her with a deadpanned look, raising his brows.
"Forgot about that one," she answered honestly.
Eret tossed it aside and pinned her wrists again. "Where's your dragon?"
