For the first time in so long - perhaps since she'd come back to life - Birch didn't have a single thought in her head. There was nowhere to be, nothing she had to do but exist in this moment. This wonderful, precious moment that she'd thought impossible until that first sudden kiss at the inn. She'd never considered herself a romantic, preferring realism for daydreams, but it would be a lie to say she hadn't hoped, just a little. That she hadn't dreamed, hadn't ached with the wanting of a love she'd been so certain would not come around a second time. And here she was, and it was so much... more, so much better. Birch basked in the sensations, in the soft sound and the soft light, and realized for the first time in so long, she was happy.

A tear she'd surely blame on her position if asked was discreetly brushed away, her face half-lifting to meet his lips as he leaned over. A content little sigh escaped her lips, her eyes heavy with pleasure and comfort - their thin makeshift mattress could well have been a feather bed for all she noticed - and at his words she melted all over again.

"Nuyuit, we'll fight for it together," she corrected gently, lips curving slightly. The Fyren term fell from her lips as if it'd always belonged, and she realized she'd not used it once with Theoden, not once before or after Jacopo. What did that say, then?

Her eyes widened a little, a bit of sleepiness fading from her face as she bit her lower lip. "Even if that means fighting Cypress," she smiled just slightly nervously at that.

A reedy howl rose in the distance, reminding Birch that Cypress wasn't the only potential problem they might face.