Snow Mountain

- 8 -

She is sure the herdsman understands the plea in her eyes, and after a moment he sighs, nodding.

"Alright then," he stands, motioning for her to follow him. She does shakily, under effects of the wine.

She does, and they both go through the curtain into his sleeping area. Once there, the herdsman strips off his upper tunic, then moves to the bed.

For a moment, in the dark, she sees two lines of lighter colored skin on his back. Scars, symmetrical, intentional, running parallel to his spine. She wonders what could have caused such scars.

She reaches to her hem to strip off her shirt as well, and he motions her to stop.

"No," he says. "Leave it on."

She follows him to the bed, then slides under the covers, settling in the space he indicates.

"Stay still," the herdsman orders, positioning himself next to her. Taking her shoulder he gently turns her, so she is facing away from him, her back to his stomach.

He lays his arm over her own stomach, balancing the weight over her hip bone so his large arm is not too heavy.

"Goodnight Jalintu," he says, breath by her ear.

She bites her lip in frustration. If simple warmth were all she sought, she could have stayed by the fire.

She wants something more.

She turns toward the herdsman.

Her arms reach up threading around his neck. He catches them, holding them there, both her wrists easily swallowed by one of his hands.

"Stop." His voice is firm, firmer than she has heard it. "You are drunk. I just brought you here to sleep. Just sleep."

She bites her lip harder, then frees one of her wrists and brings his hand to her own scarred cheek.

He understands her question. "It is not you. You are, uh, very beautiful." She hears the blush in his voice and smirks.

"It is me," the herdsman continues. "I... I have been alone on this mountain for a very long time. I worry..."

Her hand trails down his chest, a question. He catches it laughing.

"That is not what I am worried about. I worry...," the pause waiting for the herdsman's words was painful. "...I worry that I have been alone too long to truly care for another."

She stills, because the sadness in his words, and the sentiment it expresses, are so at odds with what she has come to see... does he not realize how kind he is? How caring? How much he has opened his heart already?

And even if he wasn't, was it really necessary for what she wanted?

But she does not want to force him. She turns, contenting herself with bringing one of his large hands to rest under her tunic on her bare stomach, warm and comforting.

His thumb makes a little circle above her navel, just once, twice, but it is enough to send shivers dancing over her skin.

"Goodnight Jalintu," he says again.

She lays her hand over his own in response.

*~*~*~*~*~*

In the morning she rises before the herdsman and sets out the breakfast items.

She has found he is a late sleeper. She wonders if it is because it is winter, or if it is because he lives alone, and according to his own schedule.

She eats on her own, then sets off to comb the caves. The herdsman inhabits only a fraction of the caves, and there are many more. Some are too deep and dark and damp for habitation, or too narrow, or lined with spears of rock that make it impossible to set anything anywhere.