#a warm rain (shingen takeda x reader)

[fandom-collective-writers]

A Warm Rain (Shingen Takeda x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Shingen Takeda x Reader

Prompt: Rain

Warning: Self-indulgent angst

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2,214

Requested by: anonymous​

Written by: @lordsister​

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost or reblog this on any other website.

       A thundering boom shook the walls, nearly drowning out the sound of your cries from beyond the sliding doors he’d been forced to wait outside of. Exhaling a slow breath, Shingen closed his eyes against the tears blurring his vision, a steady stream of silent prayers escaping slightly parted lips as he curled in on himself. Yukimura stood nearby, tapping his foot without a word. The older man could tell he wanted to speak and was grateful that he didn’t. In all his years of fighting, he had never been so terrified before, and all he wanted to do was shut down if he couldn’t do anything to bring an end to your suffering. 

       He just felt so useless.

       Had it been days or hours? Shingen couldn’t tell when each pained scream wrenched at his heart and made him tremble. He had already left bloody crescents in his calloused palms from how hard he’d been clenching his fists, yet he knew the agony he was feeling was nothing compared to what you were going through.

       The rain had started last night, the beginning of what promised to be a serious summer storm making its way across Kai, and had continued through the night, gaining intensity. Just that morning - or was it yesterday morning? - Shingen had been sitting with you, watching it drench the garden and the rest of the castle from your shared room. He’d held you safe and sound, sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around you and your hands covering his as they rested on your pregnant belly. 

       You had mentioned you’d been feeling pangs when you woke up that morning, but had dismissed them as false contractions. They had occurred a few times in the past few weeks as your due date loomed closer, but you were still a good month away from giving birth. You didn’t seem overly concerned so Shingen decided to trust you on it, but he was still a little concerned, so he insisted you let him pamper you, massaging your sore body from time to time.

       Since you had found out you were pregnant, the love and affection he liked to shower you with had increased exponentially. Every spare moment he had was spent with you, to the point that Yukimura liked to grumble that he was attached to you at the hip. You could barely walk a few steps without Shingen at your heels, asking where you were going, if you wanted anything, if you were feeling okay. It annoyed you sometimes when you were trying to sew in peace, but you couldn’t deny him when he was practically buzzing with joy. 

       “My goddess is pregnant with my child.” Every time he pressed his ear to your growing belly, listening to the sounds of his child moving within, a gentle smile would spread across his handsome face, and he would look up at you with so much love it made your heart swell for the man you’d fallen in love with, for the life you’d created together. “I won’t jinx it by wondering if I deserve to be this happy.”

       Neither of you could wait to meet the child that had been born of your love, a little Takeda prince or princess to love and fawn over and fill Tsutsujigasaki Castle with the sound of little pounding feet. Shingen may have been more excited than you actually. He’d been waiting for a family for so long and now he only had to wait a month longer until his angel added another blessing to the list.

       That morning he was holding you as he usually did when your back was aching or your feet hurt, letting you lean into his chest as his hands rubbed gentle circles into your belly and he pressed kisses into your hair. Every time the baby kicked, he would smile and tap back, chuckling into your neck. “Restless today, huh?”

       “Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, leaning your head back against his shoulder and exposing your neck to him for kissing. “It feels like they’re trying to fight their way out. Definitely a warlord’s kid.” 

       Laughing, he caressed your stomach soothingly, murmuring, “Calm down for Mama, huh? There’ll be plenty of fighting later when Kenshin decides you're old enough to hold a sword.”

       You grimaced and he laughed some more. Of course, you knew he was kidding. There was no way Shingen wasn’t going to let the battle-obsessed war god anywhere near his child for a long time. The thought of Kenshin’s bloodlust rubbing off on his precious baby…

       Suddenly, you gasped and he flew into serious mode, his grip on you tightening protectively. “What? What’s wrong?”

       “Shingen, I - my water broke!” Narrowed gaze snapping to your stomach, he felt you jerk in his arms, a pained yelp escaping your lips. “The baby’s coming!”

       He didn’t waste a second, even though he was panicking inside. Wasn’t it too early? There was still a good month left before the birth was supposed to take place. Had something suddenly gone wrong? ‘God, please no.’ 

       Lifting you in his arms, he took you back inside and settled you onto the futon, pressing a quick kiss to your head before unwinding your fingers from his and running into the hallway. His booming voice filled the hall, rising above the pounding rain and thunder, and soon enough your shared room was filled with other people, Yukimura trying to pull him out even as Shingen remained rooted at your side, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from your forehead and letting you strangle his hand.

       “Shingen-!” you gasped, eyes wide. You knew it was too early and you were scared, scared for your life and the life of your child.

       It took every bit of his rapidly fraying composure not to give you the same terrified look in return, pressing his lips hard against your temple instead. It was a wonder he was able to keep his voice steady as he said, “You’re amazing, my love. You can do this. You're stronger than anyone I know. It’s going to be okay. You and the baby are going to be okay.”

       “Lord Shingen, we can’t stay in here!” Yukimura insisted, tugging harder. The maids and midwife echoed him, but he barely heard, feeling his heart throb painfully as another contraction wracked your pained form.

       “I love you,” he managed before finally letting himself be pulled away, his eyes never leaving you until the sliding door slammed into place before him. It echoed the sound of his heart snapping into pieces, and a sudden flash of lightning made him jump.

       Thus began what felt like the longest wait of his life, the only news to go off of the sound of your cries. He ached to be in there with you, holding your hand and supporting you through the pain, but he didn’t want to get in the way, especially if something really was wrong. 

       Yukimura attempted to talk to him a couple of times as Shingen paced back and forth, but stopped when his lord crumpled to the floor, his strength leaving him as he trembled and prayed to whatever gods were listening.

       He’d been sitting there for hours now, his pain numbing to a blinding ache as the seconds, minutes, hours crept by, each cry chipping away at him in a way he hadn’t known was possible. It was fear and pain and despair sharpened to knife-point and steadily being used to stab away at his hope. The storm made it worse, lightning and thunder adding an ominous sense to his terror and bringing out his worst fantasies. Something was wrong. It must be. It was taking too long, and there was no way he was just going to sit here and let you suffer alone.

       He stood with a snarl and Yukimura startled, reaching for him as he moved to tear open the screen doors. 

       “Lord Shingen, no!” The other man wrapped his arms around his lord’s waist who rounded on him with a glare.

       “Something’s wrong, Yuki. Don’t you dare stop me.”

       “I’m worried too!” he tried to insist, grip tight around his lord’s wrist. “(Y/n)’s my friend! She’s like a sister to me!”

       “And she’s my wife!” he growled, the rumble of thunder answering as he turned to the door again. “Giving birth to our child! I can’t sit here anymore!”

       “I understand, but please wait a little longer!”

       “For her to-?!” he cut off abruptly. He couldn’t say the word, he couldn’t even think it. You couldn’t! Not you! Instead, he ripped his hand out of Yukimura’s grip and reached for the door again.

       A cry interrupted him before he could open it, however, making him freeze. It wasn’t a cry from you, tiny and new instead of the pained groans he’d been listening to for hours. His fingers closed on the door before he fully realized it, yanking it back with a resounding slam.

       Shingen was so scared of what he might find, he practically collapsed in relief when his gaze landed on you. You were a mess, covered in blood and sweat, but you were alive, blessedly, wonderfully alive. 

       He was at your side in a split second, scooping your exhausted body into his arms and cradling you against him. For the first time in hours, he felt safe, holding you safe and sound where you belonged.

       “Sorry. Did I scare you?” you panted, a breathless chuckle wracking your limp form. 

       He tried to laugh back, but a choked sob came out instead. The tears he’d been trying to hold back for hours suddenly rushed forth, streaming down his face as he pressed it into your hair, shoulders shaking. Shingen was so grateful that you were still alive, he couldn’t think of anything to say. All he could do was hold you.

       “Would you like to meet your daughter?” you murmured softly, reaching up to stroke his hair. 

       His watery eyes shot open, his mouth opening and closing before he regained his voice. “A daughter? We have a daughter?”

       You were so tired and weak, but there was a beautiful sparkle in your eyes, a smile on your lips as your gaze shifted away from him and to an approaching nursemaid. He looked as well, and more emotion and anticipation rose in his throat as his eyes fell on the squirming bundle in the other woman’s arms. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as your outstretched arms embraced the bundle, laying it against your chest as he finally beheld his child’s face.

       She had been crying before, but she quieted now, nestled against the familiar warmth of her mother. Shingen could see that she had inherited his coloring, maroon fuzz covering her head and large grey eyes blinking up at him, but he recognized your nose and jawline. He took a shuddering breath and reached out, smiling through his happy tears as a tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

       “You couldn't wait another month, huh?” he chuckled, to which she just blinked at him, cooing as she wiggled. “Is she healthy?” 

       “Yep,” you replied, stroking your thumb across her head. Looking up at him, you asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

       He blinked owlishly at you and nodded, his heart jumping in his chest. Fussing at being handed away from you, she quieted as soon as Shingen had her steady. She looked so tiny in his large hands, little limbs kicking in her swadlings, and he could feel her heartbeat, fluttering like a bird. His tears dripped down his face onto her as his heart swelled in his chest, love for his family drowning the last of his fear. 

       Holding the new Takeda princess in one arm and his goddess of a wife in the other, he pressed his lips to your hair. “Thank you.”

       Leaning up, you kissed his cheek in answer before settling back against him, closing your eyes as 20 hours of labor finally got to you. You felt yourself being laid back onto the futon, and heard the maids ushering your husband and child out again to clean you up before settling to sleep, a smile on your face.

       At the same time, Shingen was still gazing down at the baby in wonder, watching her take in the world around her with pride. There was so much more inside him now, the final pieces falling into place. She’d broken his heart coming into the world, but put it back together just as easily. How amazing was that?

       Sitting down, he smiled as the tiny life in his arms yawned and closed her eyes, tucked safely against his chest. Looking up, he noticed the rain had started to let up, bits of blue sky peeking through the grey. As he watched, a rainbow flared to life, making his smile grow even wider as he reached out to catch the last few raindrops in his hand.

       This day could have gone so much worse. The rain could have been so cold, drenching him as he mourned the loss of what heaven had so graciously given him, but it felt warm instead, life-giving. The future he dreamed of remained perfectly intact, his heart blissfully full.

[mythiica]

Reader x Shingen Takeda {IkeSen} - A Godiva for You and a Ferrero Rocher for Me

Title: A Godiva for You and a Ferrero Rocher for Me Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Character: Shingen Takeda Genre: romance + au Warnings: none Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience  Word Count: 1156 words POV: second person Other comments: for @caitea-ward​‘s birthday!! I hope you like it <3 and i wish you a wonderful birthday 

It’s tradition, he said, to exchange chocolates on an anniversary. Shingen always found a way to surprise you, but two things always stayed the same: a Godiva for you, and a Ferrero Rocher for me. Specifically the raspberry ganache twirl, because it was the only good chocolate in an entire box of thirty-six pieces. The second thing being Shingen gifting you the sticker from atop the individually wrapped bonbon by acting as though he wanted to hold your hand, when really, he wanted to trick you playfully. 

          You never minded his antics, mainly because they always made you shake your head with laughter. Guilt pulled at your conscious when Shingen continued to spend upwards of fifty dollars on the chocolate box, only for you to enjoy one piece. It didn’t help that Shingen only ever got the measly three pack of Ferrero Rochers for himself, making the bill total to fifty-five dollars that, really, would be better spent on warm wool for a new winter coat. Shingen’s old coat had more holes than he did fingers. 

         Money was always a concern. 

         Although Shingen worked until his joints were stiff, seemingly no one had any use for hand-carved wooden furniture. He had all the bruises and blisters as evidence of his laborious job, but his smile never broke and his spirits stayed high. 

         But I like what I’m doing, he said when you told him about a position in the city. It had similar hours, and you hoped it would cater to his poor sleeping schedule, but it was at least a stable desk job. Unlike woodwork, there were always people calling to ask for help with something that Shingen would not have a dull moment. 

         You knew he loved carving. He was gifted with the ability to transform timber planks into magnificent structures only fueled by your home brewed tea. Shingen claimed it was the hint of syrup you added to the drink that made it work so well. 

         But you also knew that fewer people wanted to buy your mixed herbs bags when pharmacies were sprouting faster than weeds in a field. Combined, your monthly salaries barely covered rent and food, and it only deepened the wrinkles across your forehead when you tried to scrape up some extra change to replace old objects around the house. 

         The two of you lead simple lives, even before getting married, but you learned to put away your dreams of living comfortably in your pocket before the cold swept it away. 

         In fact, you are reviewing the impressive stack of bills and furrowing your eyebrows at the questionable sums. Was it really even possible to spend so much on water and gas? Albeit, Shingen needed them for various carving techniques, he had been using rain water whenever possible. There is no way it could cost nearly twice as much as the previous month… 

         That is when Shingen covers your eyes from behind and leans against you. “If you frown so much, my angel, the wrinkles will stay longer.” 

         “I already have grey hairs, what more are some wrinkles going to do?” 

         He laughs and presses a swift kiss to your temple before settling down on your left. His traditional kimono hangs open, exposing his sweat-glistening chest to you. Huffing slightly, you turn and fix his obi and arrange everything in place. “Have you finished the commission? I was hoping to take it to Mr. Sayo today instead of tomorrow. Maybe he will include a bonus for working quickly.” 

         Shingen gives you a small nod before reaching for your hand. “Maybe we can stop by a new store that has recently opened in the main square as well? It would not be out of our way at all.” 

         You cringe at the word ‘store’. 

         Store meant purchasing things, but with what money? The payment from the finished chair is meant to cover the costs of Shingen’s medicine. Your emotion shows plainly across your face, so Shingen captures your hands and places them over his jaw. Stubble scratches the insides of your hands, but you don’t mind it in the slightest. Instead, you melt against his warm skin and brush away a few curls of wood that flew into his auburn hair. 

         “Of course.” 

         The only thing Shingen forgot to mention: it was a chocolate shop. 

         He pulls you inside before you can argue it. Not only did these places mark up their unit prices an insane amount, but neither you nor Shingen need the extra sugar. Despite this, your husband marches to the counter and requests two specific chocolates, like he’s done this before and knows exactly what he wants. 

         Cool air from an ac unit blows your hair back as you admire the decorations. Cakes five tiers high scrape the low ceiling and there is a pool of melted chocolate for dipping. Everything seemingly comes from a dream, making your heart flutter with fascination. 

         Shingen returns promptly and places a small, familiar looking chocolate into the palm of your hand. It is unmistakable as the raspberry ganache twirl, save for its signature pinch-twist on the top. He is holding a spherical ball that resembles a Ferrero Rocher, but it still appears slightly different. 

         “This chocolatier specializes in imitation chocolate,” he explains with a smile. “The same taste for a fraction of the price.” 

         That last phrase makes your heart stop pounding. 

         “And, considering it is your birthday, my angel, I thought it would be the perfect time to bring you here. When was the last time you stepped out of the house?” 

        “Well, I just did yesterda–” 

        “I mean, not for work or business.” 

        You close your mouth. 

        Shingen always had a way with convincing you otherwise, and you realize that you’ve fallen into his trap. Nonetheless, you accept the chocolate from his palm before it melts. “Cheers.” 

        The two of you knock bonbons together before eating them. 

        It tastes so much better than usual, perhaps because it is technically a different brand all together, or maybe it is because the chocolate has absorbed Shingen’s sweetness. He brought you out to make this small declaration of love on your birthday. Although chocolates are reserved for anniversaries, you admit, Shingen did well. 

        Suddenly, the payment the two of you received earlier feels heavier in your pocket, like everything will work out. He takes your hand and swings your arm back and forth with every step the two of you take outside. The air is crisper, lighter, clearing your lungs of the stuffy air from your house. 

        He catches you for a moment to kiss you – the taste of lingering chocolate and hazelnut coats your tongue as he does, and you would not trade the moment for anything else in the world, not even money. 

        If this new tradition continues, you will scold Shingen less for spending so much on a  chocolate box, only for you to enjoy one piece. 

[saizoswifey]

(How about that Shingen fic?) 😏😏😏 OR a little something from your beautiful prose for Inuchiyo! CONGRATULATIONS again. All my love.

Thank you so much, dear!! Alright, alright! Shingen fic it is! For the loveliest Jem  ( ᵕ̤ ‧̫̮ ᵕ̤ )

What I Was, Once

{ShingenxReader}

Genre: Sadness, deathWord Count: 1,905  A/N: This is an AU of sorts, wherein Shingen passes away on his own time. My take on his thoughts and feelings, and how he would handle his passing and the aftermath. 

Life doesn’t stop just because you’re dying.

In a period of constant war and turbulence you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who was not aware of this fact, but even so, Takeda Shingen perhaps understood this more than most. Knew there were still plenty of ups and even more downs. When he thought about his impending death and leaving this world it was not about the world itself as a whole; he wasn’t as selfish as all that, but instead the individual things that he would be abandoning. You, his retainers—that went without saying.

It was even smaller things he found to be the hardest to grasp letting go of. How could he come to terms with the fact that one day he would not have the feel of your small hands brushing his hair before breakfast, caressing his scalp before tying his hair up in just the perfect way. 

Or the pleasant dreams of his younger days when his shoulders were not yet aware of the profound burden they would one day carry. Wind whistling through his ears and bringing a pleasant moisture to his eyes as he recklessly raced through the mountains with his brother. He’d look back, saying something boisterous and cocky and young though he could not remember exactly what, and laugh, though it was not as deep and hearty as it was today. He would miss the heaving power of the animal beneath him and the sound of hooves like the rhythm of freedom.  

Of course, some things were easier to leave. The memories and hardships he had faced in his life; the regrets. Eyes of fear from those at the other end of his sword. The searing pain in his lungs, the feeling of cold sweats and the way the illness swept in waves and seemed to erode every muscle and tendon in his body until he felt as weak as a newborn, unable to dress or walk outside and take a proper piss without assistance. The pity.

Yes, these things he would not miss.

“Yukimura would make a fine partner to warm your bed once I pass,” Shingen said one night while you brushed his hair from behind him. The brush stopped halfway down his back. Abrupt. Inward he was smiling, but his face remained serious and stoic. He knew it was a terrible thing to say but he meant it.

“I told you not to talk like that.” The brush resumed its course.

Ah, you were upset. He would miss that. The same tone you used to scold him in the middle of the night when the morning light was approaching and he still had not come to bed. Behind his shield of books and maps and writing desk he would hear the shoji open and know for certain, it would only be a matter of seconds before you dragged him to bed while giving him an earful about his health, how he should care more, and rest. Did you know your voice was always too full of caring and love to ever be threatening? He hid a small smile at the thought.  

“It’s true,” he continued. “He’s loyal and kind. Honest to a fault. He may not be as good a lover as I am-“

“No one is as good a lover as you are,” you cut him off.

He let a deep laugh trickle out through the pain it caused his lungs. Despite the hints of rasp, it was still very much Shingen. Not young Shingen or healthy Shingen, but Shingen. He never grew tired of the way you fueled his ego, even if it wasn’t the truth.

“I hope you won’t forget that…” It was quiet and doleful, uncharacteristically melancholy, but he smiled as he said it.

“There’s nothing for me to forget in the first place. You remind me every day. You’re still here.”

Shingen reached behind him and took hold of your hand, bringing the back of it to his cheek. He had to remind himself that you were not cold, he was simply warm.

“That’s right. I’m here.”

Though, not forever. Not even for long, he thought. In his heart, he truly hoped you would move on and find another man to love. Another man to protect you and live with you in the ways Shingen wished he could have. If he could, he would bring you and Yukimura together while he was still alive just so he could rest assured you would be taken care of. But conversely, it lit a jealous fire in his belly thinking of any–other than himself–getting to touch you and caress you, to claim you in the most intimate ways.

And when he turned to face you he tossed the brush from your hand and, fever be damned, latched his lips to your neck and lowered you underneath him.

He would miss this as well.

__

He wasn’t even gone and yet he missed eating. He missed having an appetite for anything at all, really. Before, the smell would at least draw a rumble from his belly but now…now even that was not enough to elicit a response from him. A grave sign. But he kept this to himself. He didn’t want to worry you. How could he? How could he steal the light from your eyes? You, who smiled and the bud of your lips opened up like a flower in bloom. And he was just so tired. So very tired. The sharpness of his features even more apparent with his thinning frame. The exhaustion would be easy to let go of.

Flowers sprung and snow fell.

While I gazed out,

barely conscious that I too

was growing old,

how many times have blossoms

scattered on the spring wind?

Helpless. He was a prisoner to the passing of time. While his body moved at an increasingly slow pace, the seasons passed as quickly as he ever remembered. Funny, how the years shortened the older your age. He’d say it was cruel but he knew that was not really true. The autumn breeze brought a chill straight to his bones and Shingen sat awake in the night, alone. Every shudder of breath sent a thick anxiety coursing through his veins, choking him. He had never felt so weak. His arm rested on his writing desk, propping him up with all the strength he had left. The light from the oil lamp was so dim that it wouldn’t matter if it had not been lit at all.

Despite his feverish shaking, the haori remained draped over his shoulders. He alternated dotting at the bit of sweat lingering on his brow and then his eyes as he wept softly in solitude, staring out into the moonlight. The moon, full and bright, reminded him of the rocks from the river he used to play in as a child. As if perhaps one day he had skipped one a bit too hard, and it flew into the sky to remain for the rest of his days. The thought was comforting in its nostalgia. He continued to bring brush to paper, shaky hands be damned.

When he finished, he lay next to your sleeping frame. He caressed a warm hand along your belly. Not enough to rouse you, but enough to feel connected to the life inside, stirring and responding against his flattened palm.

This. He would miss this the most, he thought. And the easiest to let go—the indescribable agony he felt with the knowledge that he would not be around long enough to see it’s face.

___

Although Shingen was gone, his spirit and love were left in traces all around you. 

The first time you found a note, the tears welling from your eyes kept you from reading the words properly. This one tiny paper, gently nestled in a new hairpin inside your dark lacquered box.

‘Wear this today, my love. Go outside for a walk. And when you hear the birds song, know they will be singing only for you, and your beauty on this day.’

And you did. Though you didn’t make it very far before giving in to a heavy sob.

Two infant swaddles left on your bedding when you returned from the kitchens one evening. Saizo. One for a boy and one for a girl. And a note.

‘Forgive me, I wanted to give our child a gift but I was not sure which would end up being used… Though, I am sure you’ll make use of both when you start to have more children. At least, I hope you would.’

Little notes in curious places.

Married with bolts of fine cloth that were delivered after he was gone.

“There must be a mistake…I have not requested these,” you protested.

“Forgive me milady, but it is no mistake. Lord Shingen personally instructed us to make these and deliver them here at this time.”

They came with the seasons, patterns for spring, patterns for summer and thick cloth for winter, all beautiful.

Pieces of parchment under your bedding, anywhere he could think of to reach you even when he was not there. Some brought by those in his service he trusted most—when you needed them the most. Some for your child to read in the future.

You breathed in the sun-drenched air.

In front of you in the lush garden grass, plump, shaky legs brought your child closer to your feet.

“My lady, she’s escaped again,” a maid appeared from the veranda.

“Alright then,” you sighed.

You took off, heading in the only direction that made sense. The same place she always ended up. The sun was traveling towards the horizon and the chance breezes caught your hair and cooled your skin. Through trees and over rocky paths you made your way to high ground until you found her.

“Kurokumo,” you called in exasperation when you finally saw her, calm and grazing on the familiar hill overlooking Kai.

She looked back and flicked her tail in annoyance.

“You’ve got to stop doing this.” She ignored you and returned her face to the grass. You gave her a couple long strokes down her neck. “I know, I miss him too.”

She snorted in response.

Perhaps this shared feeling of loneliness was the closest thing bonding you two.

Inside a deep hollow of the tree, you retrieved a glass bottle, unrolling the parchment hidden inside.

‘Are you sad? Is that why you’ve come here? Whatever you are feeling, I am always with you in this spot. If you feel the warmth of the sun, close your eyes and look up to the sky, think of it is as my hands upon your cheeks. The wind moving through your hair is my fingers. Raindrops upon your skin are each a kiss from my lips. And when it’s cold, wrap your haori around yourself and it will be my warm embrace. Whatever your burden, I am there to share it. Look out upon the vastness in front of you and smile for me, and for all of the wonderful life around you.

And know I am smiling, too.’

Kurokumo nudged your shoulder with enough strength to knock you off balance and you wiped the newfound wetness from your cheek.

“Alright,” you gave her a smile and tucked the vial back into the tree. “We can stay. Just a little longer…”