Meadow

His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat a frantic echo of the years that had passed. His gaze, sharp and cold, lingered on the contours of her frame, the subtle hollows of her ribs, the weariness etched around her dark brown eyes. Yet, despite the passage of time, she was here. They both bore the marks of age – the youthful exuberance replaced by aches and the smooth skin now etched with fine lines. Time had stolen their boundless energy, leaving them with the quiet wisdom of experience. But one thing time could not touch was the deep connection that bound them, a force strong enough to pull them across the vast expanse of years and memories.

Their eyes met once more – hers, soft and warm, mirroring the depth of their connection, his, icy and distant, reflecting the years spent apart.

Björn... after all this time. she whispered, her voice a soft dream. He nodded, the words a bridge spanning the years between them. He’d imagined this moment countless times, yet now, disbelief bloomed in his chest. The recent years had been a storm, leaving wreckage in their wake. Siobhan, lost at sea, her fate a chilling unknown. Tigerlily, Skogsra, Sihtric, Skadi – scattered to the winds, or worse. The weight of it all pressed upon him, a heavy cloak of grief. He drew in a sharp breath, the memory of their shared past a bittersweet balm against the pain of the present.

Yet, in this moment, a warm smile touched his lips. The memory of their shared past was a bittersweet balm, and he breathed a sigh of relief, "Ylva," he whispered, "I thought all hope was lost, that I would spend the rest of my days alone. But it seems I was wrong."His voice held a newfound sense of hope, for in this moment, he was not alone.

He gently brushed his whiskered lips against her withers, desperate to feel the warmth of her presence, to know beyond any doubt that she was real, not a figment of his yearning heart.