His shock mirrors own, and perhaps later when he inevitably melts into the swamp again and I have time to ruminate on this meeting, I will recognize what that shock means. In the moment, however, my focus is still on his insane, nonsensical demand.

I am not even fourteen hands at the shoulder but I stand as tall as I can, my fluted ears pinned tightly to the nape of my neck as I stare him down in anger. Surely he has lost his mind if he believes I will leave him now after declaring my love for him. Surely he does not expect me to take our young daughter out into the world all by myself. Surely not. Surely he would not do this to me.

And yet.

I flinch as his teeth snap close to my face, panic clawing up my chest as I remember the night I'd told him the truth. It had made no sense at the time, and did not now, though neither made it any less true. I loved him. And I was terrified of him. Fear and love and love and fear, it was all the same too me. Ever since I'd leaned into him, I'd lost the difference between the two.

I make no conscious effort to retreat from him, but I find myself a few steps away all the same, my body trembling in dread and shock. It takes every ounce of my will to stop my feet from fleeing into the forest, from doing the only thing that would make sense in answer to his command. Instead, I turn to face him again, the last autumn leaf twisting on it's branch in the autumn breeze.

"Tell me you don't want me then, Garmr." I say desperately, unwilling to believe that he truly wanted me gone. My voice grew sharper, the words pointed. "Tell me."

Because if he didn't, he'd have to drag me out of this swamp himself.