Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.

When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.

For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.

It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.

I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.

I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.

In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.