Page 427 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

She grumbles angrily under her breath and my chest shakes. She kicks a pinecone at my boot.

I lead her off the barely-there trail, through a gap between two pines that haven't changed much over the years. Tonight, for the first time, the path is lit by a camp lantern.

Ivy has it, so she can see.

She doesn't have eyes like mine.

But I would be able to find this place in pitch darkness anyway.

The cold bites at my scars, my teeth, the scarred muscle of my jaws. There's no mask, no hood with Ivy wearing my coat again. Nothing between my face and the mountain air.

And it feels good.

Out here, there's nobody to hurt.

Nobody to scare.

Because Ivy looks at me with nothing but trust and love, not even trying to keep her eyes off the parts that don't even seem to set off her own feral instincts anymore.

She loves me.

All of me.

It's strange to believe it. To not feel the slightest resistance, because I trust her, irrevocably.

We step out of the thinning tree line, and she stops walking.

The lake spreads out in front of us, frozen solid, a massive sheet of pale ice with the mountains rearing up black on every side. Above it, the sky is lit up with colors I've only seen a handful of times in my life.

Green ribbons ripple across the stars, pale and shifting, blue at the edges with the slightest hints of violet. The whole sky sways, crackling and chirping softly in my ears, and the ice catches every bit of it and glows.

The northern lights.

Ivy makes a sound I've never heard from her before.

"Oh my gods," she breathes.

She grabs my sleeve with both hands, not even looking at me, staring up with her mouth hanging open, and her eyes are full of reflected light the same color as her own irises.

"You knew," she accuses, delighted. "How long have you been planning this?"

A while.

"You're unbelievable." She's grinning so hard her eyes are wet. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I look at the lights.

They're fine. Good, even. The best this sky has ever given me.

Then I look at her.

Her hair's come loose from its tie and the wind keeps pushing it across her face, and she doesn't care. She's lit up from above and glowing from within, standing at the edge of my one safe place before her, and she fits here perfectly.

The lights are nice.

They're nothing.

They're dull and pale next to her.