I feel myself lose the tension of the past while as we leave the Cove behind. Solomon is a formidable contender for the heart I cannot have and it has taken much to otherwise ignore the chemistry between the two of them. I have not rested well in a long while, always one eye open in case Solomon should make a play to encourage My Lady to eschew her rejections, at least where it pertained to him. I do not hold out hope for her doing so in my instance, it was too unlike her to change her mind, in my experience.

I stay at her side, though, as we depart, and find myself almost giddy with the loosening of my muscles. My flesh twitches and flicks and shudders with the sheer boundless potential I feel in the release. I almost do not feel the pull that has remained despite the lack of season to fan the flames - but it might also simply be that the anxiety that had pressed so harshly into my mind in the Cove was now gone and I was misunderstanding that relief to be more than just adrenaline finally fading into the buzzing hum of ‘alive’ feelings.

My relief, of course, is quite short lived. In exchange, I find myself slowly growing more and more concerned as Ylva and I make a quiet trek towards our next destination. She maintains her composure, of course, but the chemical changes in her leave me scenting the wind for a threat and flicking my ears in every direction to find the invisible enemy. I do not know that she was Queen here, so I cannot place what might have my hackles rising like some easily irritated wolf - but that tension that had so recently vacated my body is growing again.

When she stumbles, I know it is because she is too distracted to even watch her footing and my sudden burst of worry is returned to me with a polite rejection of necessity. It is not a moment later that we crest a hill and look over a vast expanse that leaves Ylva more shaken than even having seen Solomon. In part, this relieves me - that a land could affect her greater than Solomon and his large helpings of appeal and benefits - but something about her starstruck-seeming response makes me wish I were not so polite as to leave a lady to her own mind.

I am so wrapped up into her indescribable expression that I do forget myself, somewhat, however. When she sighs, my chest clenches with the weight of what she will not say, crushed by a need to help and the binding ropes she had wrapped me with to prevent such a casual thing as what I do next.

I reach out, pressing my chin into her shoulder to withhold her from progressing for a moment. "You do not need to do this alone. I am at your shoulder and I would help carry whatever mountain you bear in coming here...." I do not withhold her long, but i cannot help the lingering brush as I pull my chin from around her and instead step so near to her side that if my flesh isn’t felt brushing against her, then the heat I exude would at least be the reminder I wish to convey.

I want so much to be a part of her life, of her mind, that I will forsake the yearning of my heart to beat with hers. Even if I should not share my burdens, I would only be too blessed to be able to share in hers. My blackness against her tan figure is only better foiled, the reds of the tips of my mane mimicked only sparsely in her red-dun form. We make quite a picture as we descend and seek-- ...who knows what but My Lady.