“How’re you feeling Wyn?” Gryffon asked, his hand lacing through hers. She jumped a little at the contact and fought not to pull her hand away. He just shrugged and put his hand back into his pocket.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, “it’s just…”
“Hey, hey, hey Wynta,” he turned her to face him, “there is absolutely no need to apologize. I understand. In time, when your mind heals and your memories return, everything will go back to how they were between us. Until then I’ll try to refrain myself.”
He grinned and began walking again.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“How’s everything going anyway?”
She glanced sideways at him and gave him a small smile.
“It okay, everything is slowly coming back. My only recollection of you is an emotion; not a good one.”
He pouted and she laughed.
She sobered quickly as she remembered something she had wanted to talk to him about.
“Ah, I heard what you did to Aaron.”
He stopped, apprehension darkening his eyes.
“I just wanted to say thanks. The bastard deserved it,” she finished angrily.
He grinned, “My words exactly.”
“The forest!” she squealed. “My first good memory of you. I’m going to cherish it.”
“You better,” he smiled.
She grinned back and took his hand, her finger brushing against his calloused ones.
“Let’s go and aid an uprising,” she said.
“Together?” he asked.