Closer to the Fire

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16 Haring, 9:41

They packed up reluctantly the next morning, with long, lingering kisses breaking up the work that neither of them really wanted to do.

Just before leaving, Cullen walked down to the shoreline one last time. Antonia came with him, her hand firmly clasped in his. "It's beautiful here," she said.

"Mm."

"Can we— Will you bring me here again, sometime?"

He put his arm around her. "If you want me to. If we can get away."

"Always the question." Antonia could practically see the cares of the Inquisition settling on his shoulders again. "I suppose we should go."

"Yes."

But it still took a few moments before they were ready to actually go back to the horses and turn their steps toward Skyhold.

By late afternoon, the sky above them had darkened and was heavy with clouds. At the first roll of thunder, Cullen reined his horse in next to Antonia's. "Which is it? Keep going, or camp?"

"Neither one sounds all that good—it'll be a cold, wet camp, if those clouds are any indicator." She looked around. "I don't suppose you know anyone living near here who might be able to provide us some shelter?"

"No." Cullen shook his head regretfully. "Although ..." He looked thoughtful. "Perhaps there is something. Follow me."

He turned off the road, and Antonia followed him, keeping a wary eye on the thickening clouds above her head. The first raindrops began spattering down on them after another few minutes, and within ten minutes they were in the midst of a downpour, soaked to the skin, despite the heavy weather-resistant canvas jackets they were both wearing.

Antonia hoped Cullen still knew where he was going; she could barely see him ahead of her, and there was no chance she could make herself heard above the sound of the rain.

At last they came to a cabin tucked in a small grove of pines, with an overhanging roof in the back suitable for the horses. Cullen handed her the pack with the food in it, leaning over to shout in her ear, "I'll take care of the horses; you can get a fire started. It should be stocked with dry wood."

Antonia wanted to ask how he'd known it was here, but it could wait until they were both inside and dry.

The cabin was snug and warm, neatly made up ready for use. She couldn't help but notice that there was only one bed, and it was hard to banish the thoughts that came to her when she saw it. There was no one to interrupt them here.

She found the fireplace and brought wood from the stack by the door, getting the fire going. By the time Cullen came in, it was crackling merrily, and she had water heating for tea in the kettle she'd found.

"Horses all set?" she asked, while he shook himself off in the doorway.

"Yes. It's a dreadful downpour out there. Of course, we're lucky it's unseasonably warm for Ferelden—this could have been a blizzard, and then we'd have been in real trouble."

"This is unseasonably warm?" Antonia shivered.

Cullen grinned. "I keep forgetting you're from the exotic and sunny north."

"We get snow in Ostwick."

"Pretty white snowfalls right around Firstday?"

"Something like that. These expeditions into Ferelden have been a bit of an eye-opener. And now you tell me they're unseasonal?" She shook her head.

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