The forest was singing.

Stray cocked an ear as she passed beneath the moonlight, the leaves of the Echoing Green shivering in the breeze. Singing out mournfully, hauntingly, their crystalline structure taking the wind and giving it voice, making it call like a lover for her dear one. Mourning like a mother for her child. Every step seemed difficult, drenched in tiredness, but she did not even try to turn back-

After all that she had been through, she knew that her journey was finally coming to both its beginning and its end.

And she could no more have stopped this than wanted to.

Before her she could see the vague shape of Logan, a shadow moving through the wildwood, every line of his body a gladness that traced through her heart. His steps so light they made no noise, his shoulders stooped, with tiredness or wariness she could not be sure. Every so often he would stop and look behind him, hold out a hand to her in invitation: This usually meant that the forest trail had turned dangerous and he felt she needed his help. Pointing out that she now shared his abilities seemed to make no difference so after the first few times Stray didn’t bother. Instead she allowed herself the comfort of being swung across treacherous patches of ground, of being helped through the spider-web-delicate tracery of roots underfoot by a strong, steady arm around her waist or on her shoulder. It felt so… easy. So… right. It had been an age since anyone had touched her with kindness, let alone with the easy comfort which Logan now displayed: She had been the Cursed, Untouchable girl for so long that the notion of that easy gentleness seemed almost something from another time, another land entirely…

Her Sunlight Lock did not speak, did not tell her where he was leading her. He seemed so sure of his way that it didn’t occur to her to worry- For she knew he would never willingly lead her ill. And so they threaded deeper and deeper into the wildwood, the fresh, sharp air cleansing Stray of the last of Lord David and Victor Latverius’ collective stenches. The starlight gentle and kind after so long in Illyenka’s hex-ridden realm. The ground became more difficult to walk on- at some point she couldn’t recall Stray seemed to have lost her shoes- and without warning Logan swung her up and began to carry her. Growling something vaguely proprietary and entirely bad-tempered when she made to protest. So after a moment Stray acquiesced, smiling shyly when he looked down at her in surprise but not pulling away from him-

“It’s not much further now, girl,” he murmured, his hands tightening against her almost instinctively.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him softly. “I trust you.”

And as if to illustrate his point at that moment the foliage began to clear.

Stray leaned forward then, watching as the trees began to lessen though their musical leaves still murmured in the breeze. Mixed in with it she could hear the sound of splashing, the clean, fresh tang of running water dancing on the air. Logan stopped, murmuring gently that she would have to put her feet down now. She did so, bare skin touching the rocky ground gingerly as he slowly moved her body to arm’s length, his arms still taking her weight. Stray looked around through bleary eyes: she was standing on a precipice of some kind, Shaw Manor far behind her and silhouetted against the soon-to-be-streaked-with-dawning sky. Stars a canopy of silver fireflies above her, the moon a lazy, reclining mistress to her right. But the sight did not hold her interest, for right in front of her, ranged in an almost perfect semi-circle, was a waterfall, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Its length was enormous, its height stretching out below her like a massive, hissing maw-

The last rays of starlight spilt over the horizon like liquid silver and instantly the bubbling water lit up, shards of faint rainbow light tumbling through its depths.

“This way,” Logan said then, and Stray took his hand as he carefully led her forward. A set of steps which had been roughly hewn into the rock side of the waterfall and Stray followed them all the way down: The light of the was full moon was wavering, and every so often she would misstep, but still she continued her journey, only stopping when she got to the bottom. There Logan held out his hand again and this time he pulled something from her shoulders. She realised with a shock that at some point in the journey she had been wrapped in his greatcoat- When the blazes did that happen? The smell of it- of him- soothed her even as she felt the shock of cold air against her skin. He laid the coat on the ground and then, still holding her gaze, stepped towards the edge of the water. There was a quick splash and then suddenly he was chest-deep in the pool, pushing soaking wet hair from his eyes, his (mostly) clothed body now sopping wet. He beckoned her with a cock of his head and for a moment Stray hesitated, her body beginning to shiver and her teeth chattering. The effects of her own tiredness and the night’s misadventures finally taking their toll. But then she saw Logan- the real one, she reminded herself, she could tell this was the real one, this was no trick of Gold or the Phoenix or anyone else- smile at her, his expression softening in understanding-

He pushed himself over to the pool’s bank with three swift strokes and stared up at her where she stood on the bank.

Stray knelt down in front of him, the welcome sight of his face more calming than anything else could have been, and laid her hand where it was safe, upon the whiskers on his face.

“It’s warm,” he told her softly then, his own grin answering hers. It seemed almost shy, for all the familiarity of his face’s stern lines. “You should come in, it will help you. Water- it’s cleansing, I promise.” For a moment his head ducked down, gaze moving away from her. Worried. “I know you’ve already been through so much this night,” he said.

She felt tears prickle her eyes, worry arching through her. The image of Lord David’s face rose in her mind- The chatelaine is mine- and she tried desperately to push it away. “So- So you- So you think I’m dirty?” she whispered. “You think I’m in need of cleaning-”

“No!” It came out louder than he intended it to, she could see that, but the sound of it still made Stray jump. He winced. “No,” he said more softly. “There’s nothing could sully you girl, not a bastard of a magician who tried to hurt you, not surviving Gold’s viciousness and managing to fight back. Not even that foolish boy back there who thinks himself good enough to own you, as if any creature could. You’re better than that.” And he gritted his teeth at the mention of Lord David’s claims. Something told Stray he suspected how cruel that boy had been. “But you need heat- care- and I couldn’t do this in the mansion,” Logan was saying. “I don’t want you near that little lordling and moronic accusations- I didn’t think you’d, you’d want the attention of that-”

And he shook his head to himself, his expression one Stray recognised.

He was frustrated because he didn’t know how to put what he wanted to say into words.

But words were not needed, not after all they had been through together. Words had never really been needed, not between the two of them. And the tiny fear she’d been nursing, that Logan would take Lord David’s accusations and cast her off as unchaste, withered at his words, warmth expanding in her chest to fill their space. He loved her and her only. Not her maidenhead, nor her reputation, and certainly not her father’s silk and gold. So despite her misgivings Stray allowed herself to be beckoned closer. More moonlight was filtering into the grotto now and she carefully sat down, letting her bare toes dip into the water. The warmth of it- not too sharp, not too bitter- travelled through her limbs, stilling her shivers and Logan made a little growl of relief she wasn’t even sure he noticed himself making.

That decided her: She beckoned him over and he placed her in the water, his hands easily taking her weight as she held onto his shoulders and he her waist. Their wet flesh met, protected by both water and clothing, and for a moment they just stayed like that, each staring at the other, the eddy and flow of the current pressing them together and pulling them apart with an unconscious, sinuous grace. His mouth was an inch from hers and she had to bite her lip, the desire to kiss him was so strong. The knowledge that what was begun now would not be called to a halt by anything other than her expressly-stated wish tying her stomach into knots. And yet… His hands went to her waist to steady her and she thought she might actually melt, the sensation of it was so delicious. So arousing. Was this what others felt when they touched someone they cared about? she wondered. Was this the joy of which the ballads sang? But he wasn’t half transformed, wasn’t protected from her by his wolf’s pelt. If she gave into her inclinations, she thought, she would be as good as sticking a knife in his back. So she tried to move back, tried to head for the bank again-

Apparently Lady Love had other ideas however: Another, stronger current burst over her and knocked her right into him.

This time though he held onto her and didn’t let her go.

She tensed up for a moment, desperately willing her Curse not to activate. Her attention so focussed on trying to keep it docile that it took her a moment to realise that nothing was happening. Her Curse was not effecting him though their flesh was pressed as tightly against each other’s as the sky was to the winds. Stray blinked in surprise, looking up to find Logan smiling at her gently: He reached out and brushed a lock of dripping wet hair from her forehead, his wet touch lingering over her skin. It tingled.

“Do you not remember the bath?” he asked, his hazel eyes warm. “You cannot hurt me in water.”

Stray frowned. “But I though that was- that was the Dove’s Heart potion. I thought it was that which had protected you-”

He shook his head, placed one thumb over her lips to still her talk. The pressure of his skin against hers burned. “No, water seems to be enough,” he murmured. “Water and your good graces, my little trouble-begot- Which I assume I have secured?” She nodded wordlessly and he smiled again, pressing his nose and forehead against hers.

Stray thought again that it seemed almost shy, for so gruff and confident a man.

“I had my suspicions those mornings when I kissed you after washing myself and your skin did not react,” he continued softly. “I suspect that when you wish to be touched, truly touched, Stray, then you can be.” And he reached forward, pressing a single, chaste kiss to her forehead, then each cheek, one after the other. His gaze burned into hers, as if the answer to his question mattered more than sun or light. “Do you want me to touch you, cariad?” he whispered.

It had been so long since anyone had asked Stray’s permission about anything that for a moment she was almost shocked by the question.

But then she blushed, remembering the pleasure of every other time he had touched her. The gentility he had always shown her, the care for her welfare even when he was half-transformed and terrified of himself. Again the memories of what had happened between her and Lord David flared through her mind but this time they did not wound her as they once had. They no longer seemed proof of some failure on her part, but proof of a destination she had been meant for, a point of no return about which neither David, her father nor any other in her village could ever have known or guessed. Her skin had been right: She had been meant for Logan.

Her silence seemed to worry the werewolf for he began peering at her, the openness of his expression turning guarded. Stray could well imagine what he was thinking, what dark cast his mind was putting on her silence. So screwing her courage to the sticking place the spring maid reached forward and pressed her lips, once, very softly to his. Tasting him, breathing him in. Greeting him. “Yes,” she said once, very simply.

Logan’s hands tightened on her where they’d grasped her elbows and Stray realised she’d done the right thing.

Pleasure blossomed, warm and honey-trickle-steady, through her body then. Her hands moving of their own accord, threading through his hair, his nape, the broad tightness of his shoulders. Her hips pressing instinctively into his, the warmth and hardness of him both tease and relief. She kissed him again, her lips suddenly hungry as her skin had once been. The taste of him- water and salt-sweat, flesh and magic- tantalising both nose and tongue. He shifted them, the warm liquid eddying and swaying them together, his thigh pressing confidently between her own even as he held her tighter. Her breasts strangely, achingly heavy as they flattened against his chest and her nipples tightened into peaks.

She gasped at the sensation and he grinned, suddenly looking years younger, his own kisses turning bolder, more joyous, as he pressed into the cradle between her thighs again- And again- And again- And again. The pleasure of it seemed hot and tight and unbelievable, and yet there it was. Delight arching, jewel-like and glittering, through her now. Stray knew her own body and she knew her own pleasure: She had been advised to learn as much by the few trusted servants who had seen her before her wedding, women who had- she suspected- known David for what he truly was. And even if she hadn’t she had always been far too inquisitive a creature to not investigate her own flesh, not to lay at night touching herself when she knew all else were abed. But this was different than her own hands moving over her. This was different than Lord David’s unwanted touch. This was… Logan. This was… This was her heart’s delight. This was why her flesh had learned to feel at all. She and Logan broke apart, the need to breath finally claiming them and despite herself Stray laughed out loud at the realisation, flinging her arms out and throwing her head back before the heavens. The wonder of this moment, of this feeling, a miracle for which no language- she was sure- had ever had a name. Logan cocked an eyebrow in question and she grinned. She couldn’t help herself.

She would never get tired of grinning at him, and making him grin in return.

“I like being touched by you, cariad,” she said happily then. The cocked eyebrow continued unabated and she reached out, pressing a quick kiss against it, trailing another down his cheek to his throat. He felt so good in her arms. “I like being touched by you, Logan!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, the happiness she was feeling suddenly dizzying, wonderful. Too massive to be kept inside her heart or mouth or body for long.

“I love being touched by you, my wonderful, gruff, handsome, infuriating, wonderful Sunlight Lock!”

And at Logan finally smiling she burst into laughter again. Throwing her arms around him, pulling him tightly to her even as their kisses became went from sweetly distracting to scorchingly, achingly pleasurable and Stray’s body went from warmly mellow to tight with joy. At some point- she wasn’t really certain when, and she doubted it was important to know- they managed to walk, nay, tangle their way through the great sheet of falling water into the waterfall’s heart. The pressure of it stinging Stray’s eyes and scalp until she had to gasp, the delight of the sensation making her laugh anew. She brushed her hair out of her eyes to see a cavern, its walls lined and veined with glowing green and gold. Every so often the water’s fall would break a little and moonlight would hit them, turning the green and gold to platinum-white. There was a ledge at the back and this Logan walked her to, set her sitting upon it, grinning at her as only a man newly loved can do. Stray frowned as he reached out, pulling her slightly forward by her hips and setting her thighs apart. His hand trailing up her wet gown to bare her soaking flesh.

“You won’t look away?” he asked softly and she nodded, confused.

“Not if you don’t wish me to.”

His grin turned… Well, it turned positively wicked. “Then watch me, my trouble-begot,” he murmured. “Keep those eyes on me.”

And he reached out, pulling her left leg towards him. Nipping and biting and nibbling at her ankle. Then her calf, then her knee. Eyes still on her. His lips and teeth making their way steadily upwards. His hands caressing and stroking her other foot until it tingled from arch to toe. As Stray watched he kissed the curve of her hip and then trailed his tongue down her belly towards to her inner thigh, leaving shivering, achy little kisses in his wake. Making her stomach tighten in anticipation of pleasure, though what pleasure was coming to her she could not say. Her flesh almost jumped up to meet him, its joy at finding him present nearly a separate delight in itself. The rightness of what she felt with him a balm caressing her heart. As Stray watched Logan parted her legs further, one hand keeping up its torturous attentions to her ankle, the other reaching forwards to stroke her curling maiden-hair. His tongue slowly following suit, lips tugging up into a grin as Stray let out a gasp of surprise and delight. Instinctively she closed her eyes at the sensation and she felt rather than heard the rumble of his laughter against her most delicate flesh-

“You promised you’d keep your eyes on me, Stray,” he said softly, moving his mouth to blow gently on the throbbing flesh between her thighs.

The beat of it sent a tremor through her though she did not understand quite why. She had never… She had never felt this before.

“I- I forgot,” she stammered. “I haven’t- Nobody has- “ She tried to focus her thoughts but they remained resolutely scattered. “I’m new to this, you know,” she muttered, half bad-tempered, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

What she saw there surprised her though. His expression was no longer wicked but gentle. Soft. Almost… earnest. It made her temper disappear in a thrice. He nodded his head once, the sight of him there between her legs sending something burning and liquid through her. Like everything else between them it felt so damnably good.

“Aye, I know that,” he murmured. He placed a gentle kiss against her thigh, sending a shiver through her again. She sighed. “That is why I want you to watch.”

And this time when he pressed his tongue into her, that’s exactly what she did. Watching as his mouth and teeth moved over her, the sight of him pleasing her almost as good as the pleasure itself. Stray gave herself up to it, let herself finally relax into this tenderness. All the months of fear of touch and hopelessness for the future drifting away like dust upon a strong wind. At some point she must have shifted onto her back, her hands tangling in his hair and stroking him as he pressed down on her. Showing him how much she wanted this- wanted him- in the only language they both always understood. Pleasure rose and ebbed in waves, happiness along with it. Her perceptions grew hazy; It seemed as if her body would fly apart with the wonder of this, as if the starlight itself were made of this soft, hot, wet, gorgeous ache.

And then, when she thought she might not be able to take it anymore starlight was what she became, flying apart with a suddenness that astonished her. Her moment, that hunted-and-longed-for-pleasure-of-a-moment which she had only ever managed to give herself before dragging her under like a riptide in its wake. She gasped out her lover’s name, pulling him to her and kissing him. Desperation for something-anything-everything- making her writhe beneath him and press her body ever more tightly to his. There was more, there was more, she knew it- “Please,” she murmured, “Please, I want- I need- ”

“I do,” he answered her. “I know you do- I want to be inside you cariad-”

And then she felt Logan’s hand beneath the curve of her backside, tilting her hips upwards. Felt the hot throb of his length brush against her belly and then against her thigh. That hazel gaze met hers with a seriousness she did not expect as he pressed inside her. The stretch of him burning, aching, a fullness both gorgeously wanted and frighteningly new. “Be still,” he rasped out, “let yourself adjust to me…” He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, every inch he could reach of her. His hands stroking soothingly across her shoulders and spine, caressing her with infinite care. “I won’t hurt you, it won’t be like the last time, I promise you-”

She met his eyes with all the strength and bravery she could muster. She couldn‘t bear to have him think she believed him like that whoreson boy. “You couldn’t ever be anything like him,” she said fiercely. “You have not his wickedness, you never will have.” And she forced herself to stay still, to accommodate the feeling of him seated inside her. Her arms wrapped more tightly around his neck, a strange possessiveness moving through her limbs. “I would trust you, my Sunlight Lock,” she told him, “with my dying breath. Tell me you believe that.”

His gaze held no doubt, just warmth and acceptance. It was a wonder.

“And I will be true to you, my Moonlight Key,” he told her, “Until my dying day.”

There can be power in words and those words worked some sort of magic. The same magic, perhaps, that had been created when Logan gave her his cut-iron, or perhaps the same magic that had been born when she first agreed to let him take care of her, there beneath the pale moonlight. It wasn’t that the pain eased much, though it did. It wasn’t that the unfamiliarity of lovemaking disappeared, though as Stray began to move against her Sunlight Lock she found that her body knew much of what was needed though her mind did not. But the words they had spoken seemed to act like a charm, a spell, a piece of hex-craft. The pleasure of what was between them, though so new, building and building until Stray didn’t even remember that there had been any bitterness mixed in with the sweet. Couldn’t remember why she had been nervous at all.

So they moved together, her astride, him beneath her. Joy answering joy. Pleasure answering pleasure. Emotion and delight tumbling through her until she thought it would never end. And then it came, that wave of bliss, that riptide. Her breath expanding through her lungs and through her body until she thought once again that for a second she hung with the light between the stars. Her body a cage and a solace, the man beneath her all that she knew or wanted here upon this earth. Stray gasped and collapsed, her heartbeat hammering as she felt climax wash through Logan, a distant, lovely echo of her own-

And then it was done, and they were curled together, and the day was dawning. The spring maid and her wolf lay, one-into-the-other, and let the darkness be their cradle as the starlight and the sun’s first beams looked on. “…Until my dying day,” were the last words she heard murmured before slumber finally came to her…

They would never see it but a single golden feather brushed past them both, borne aloft by the breeze and then out into the world. A blessing and a promise, the end of one road the beginning of another.