“Stay low,” Amyu hissed as she pulled him away. “Golden, come.” Her airion clacked its beak, casting threatening looks back, but it obeyed, following them on foot.
“You found them,” Joden chanted, his voice filled with awe.
“Focus,” Amyu warned, but she flashed him a smile, her eyes filled with joy.
The wyverns stopped at the dead beast, flapping their wings to perch on top. After long suspicious looks, they started to feed, tearing out hunks of rotten meat. But two of the adults were still focused on them, eyes bright.
“Don’t run,” Amyu panted. She had one hand buried in the airion’s mane, urging him on.
“My horse,” Joden sang, pointing ahead. His horse was calmly grazing where he had left it. But next to it was a glowing circle of white. “What is—?”
“Friends,” Amyu said. “Go, go.”
They emerged toa crowd of over-joyed warriors, welcomed with shouts and back-pounding hugs for Amyu.
“Y-y-you w-w-watched?” Joden asked, too astonished to sing.
There was laughter at that, and explanations that tumbled from so many mouths that he just shook his head in astonishment.
Amyu watched him, and just when it seemed that the people, noise and news threatened to overwhelm him she stepped in. “Enough,” she said. “Send word to Heath, and Snowfall, and tell them Joden is safe. If the Warlord calls senel tomorrow, Joden can tell his tale once, for all to hear. And hear ours in return.” She tilted her head at Joden. “For this night, he is mine.”
That met with agreement, and smiles, and a few knowing looks. Joden was willing to endure it all, when Amyu turned to him. “Come. Let’s fly.”
Golden flew themboth up to the tunnel cave, winging back to land on the ledge.
“T-t-that was scarier than Hail Storm,” Joden released his death grip on Amyu’s waist and dismounted.
“I held you safe.” Amyu released their packs from the harness, and slid from the saddle.
“Isn’t he beautiful,” Amyu asked as she scratched Golden under his jaw. The airion clacked in appreciation.
“N-n-not a-a-as b-b-beautiful.” Amyu flushed and waited as he finished. “A-a-as y-y-you.”
Amyu dropped their packs, stepped over, and pulled him into a kiss. Joden returned it with enthusiasm, using his lips and hands to express everything his voice couldn’t.
They parted, breathless, still clinging to one another.
Amyu stared up at him. “I have so much to tell you, so much I want to talk with you about. I will steal this night, and any other nights I can before you must go. It might not be right, it might risk you becoming a Singer, but—”
Joden put his fingers over her mouth and shushed her, shaking his head.
“Don’t be stupid,” Amyu said. “The Plains need your truths, and as a Singer.”
Joden shook his head again, and took a breath. “I cannot live this lie, for there is no honor in denying what is. I love you,” his voice trembled in the melody. He reached out and took her face in his hands. “That is the highest truth of all, Amyu of the Skies. I would ask you to bond with me in the traditions of the Plains, yes, even when our traditions dictate that you should go to the snows.”
Amyu was crying. She turned her face into his palm, and kissed it.
“I will stand by your side, for to do any less is to deny the truth of my heart. And if I deny this about myself, how can I stand before our people and speak any truth that will be believed?”
Joden shook his head.
“Joden, beloved,” Amyu flung herself into his arms, and Joden found joy in their lips coming together with heartfelt promises.
Until a noise at the cave entrance caught their attention. Golden had one of the leather straps of the packs in his beak, chewing it.
“Golden,” Amyu scolded, stepping back and wiping her tears.
The airion froze, looking as guilty as an airion could.
