And without thinking, his hand shot out, gently grasping at her arm as he bid her wait.
“Has anyone ever...” he began, trying to think of a delicate way in which to ask.
His hand fell away as she turned and glanced at it, and shame blanched through him, aware of the wrong he had done in reaching for her so freely.
Apologies were ready at his tongue, but Penryn shook her head, anticipating his thoughts. “What were you going to ask?” she entreated, and she seemed to have to call upon some reserve of patience in order to keep her voice steady.
“If you were ever given the opportunity to fly with anyone,” he finished, feeling rather absurd for even asking it. She was a Lightkeep. If she was meant to be flying, she would have wings.
But she did not.
Yet he found himself wondering if she would have the same look of joy as a fledgling did when the terror and panic waned and exhilaration took its place.
He could not give her the satisfaction of discovering that her wings could support her, that she could trust them as long buried instinct took over, but he could show her that she could trust him.
And that surely would count for a very great deal.
Penryn’s eyes widened at the offer. “I...” she stuttered out, growing pale. Clearly it was the wrong thing to say, and he chastised himself for ever giving into the temptation. “Are you offering?” she asked, surprising him.
His eyes narrowed, wondering if he had misinterpreted her expression. She did not seem excited at the prospect, leery if anything, but he found himself nodding all the same.
“Only if you should care to try,” he clarified. “But I will not be going without you.”
It was not a threat, or an attempt to guilt her into indulging him. It was a simple statement of fact, and one that seemed to ignite some spark in her, her eyes widening before her smile transformed her entire features. “Really?” she entreated, taking a step forward and this time her hand drifting to his arm. “You would take me with you?”
He did not know why words were suddenly so difficult, his mouth suddenly dry. “Aye,” he managed to get out at last, his answer far too deep and raspy for his liking.
But Penryn did not seem to mind, her smile refusing to depart from her features.
It was... good, to see her in such a way.
“I should not bring this,” she commented, holding up the lantern a little higher. She did not seem sorry about it, looking about her a portion of ground that held the least amount of grasses.
The blades themselves were fairly low to the ground, as if herds of grazing beasts passed this way a relatively short time before, and in their greed there were barren patches where roots had been taken as well as stalks, the grass not yet turning to seed so as to replenish what had been taken.
It made a proper stand for the lantern, the flame risk to nothing.
Satisfied with her attempts at remaining responsible with her charge, Penryn turned back to him, her smile expectant.
He considered the wisdom of keeping the pack with him, but decided against it. She would be challenge enough on wings not given chance to support even him since their travels began, and he should not tax them overly much by risking such a counterbalance.
There was one other subject that was slightly more delicate, but important enough to mention.
“I would suggest you forego your cloak,” Grimult added, somewhat apologetically as he released the buckles of the pack, shaking out his feathers as he did so.
Penryn asked no questions, her fingers going immediately to the clasp and undoing it, folding it haphazardly and placing it near to the lantern. “Better?”
She had foregone it before, mostly when a wash demanded it, the cool evening nights commanding its presence and even making him sometimes envious of its extra warmth. But it was different in the daylight and at his behest.
It was not quite a dress that she wore beneath. There was a long outer garment, yes, that often got caught on nettles and brush if she was not careful to negotiate around the prickles when she walked. But there was a slit past her knees that revealed her leggings beneath, which at least would preserve her modesty and keep her warm while they ascended.
“Yes, that is better,” he agreed, wondering why this was affecting him so greatly. It wasn’t meant to. It was an attempt to share something with her, to keep her safe and close while he indulged, guilty though he already felt for being so obvious with his own desires.
He did not know if he should move to her or wait until she came to him, which led to rather awkward stares between the two, each waiting on one another. He finally took a breath, schooling his features into something that he hoped resembled neutrality, and stepped forward. He had been the one to offer this, foolish even as it was, and there was nothing so especially wrong with it.
Aside from the touching.
And the command to stay on the ground to see to the lantern’s protection.
But it was safely with her cloak and their supplies, and they were hardly going to abandon it.
Just a taste.
He had not done this before. Not exactly. He might have once grabbed Saryn and took flight, but she was being particularly annoying and quickly shoved out of his arms with a great push before using her own wings to return to the ground.
And would not speak to him for two days until he was the one to apologise.
Even his mother had chastised him, reminding him of the trust required that should not be easily broken by a thoughtless action.
The warning might have been more true if Saryn had still been a fledgling and not almost full-grown and perfectly capable of flight of her own.
But Penryn...
He allowed one arm to
