Wild Heart

"Have you ever felt trapped?" Asta asked with a cold voice, keeping her violet eyes upon his, even as she bent down to pick up her abandoned sword lying on the burned stump.

Berwyn scratched his head and arched a brow, contemplating her question as he watched her clean the bloody blade of Mildthrythe with a red cloth. The smell of copper was so strong, Berwyn could already feel the familiar taste on his tongue. And it took all of his remaining strength from their sprawl to push his instincts at bay.

"Yeah. I have, " Berwyn finally said, voice quiet. Asta glanced up at him and paused her cleaning, her nostrils flaring as her eyes stuttered for a brief moment.

"Me, too." Asta's answer was a message of finality, of the topic of conversation being put to an end. Being a gentleman, and to control his spasms, Berwyn made way to grab Mildthryth, but Asta snarled in warning. "I may have allowed you to train with me, but don't test my patience."