NINETY-TWO | GLORY

It was dark by the time we’d finished negotiating.

“It’s not safe,” I’d sighed, over and over.

“You’ll be safer with me there,” he’d argued – in that gentle, nudging way of his – and eventually I’d relented. I couldn’t resist his sweet face – especially those golden eyes fringed with thick, dash lashes, watching me with nothing but tenderness in their gaze.

Hand in hand, we strode out to the woods together. The dusk was soft above us, a blurred purple that twinkled with stars. It seemed that, at long last, the rain had stopped. I was glad of the dry spell – not only did it make the sky prettier, after days of grey mist broken only by the evergreen arms of the pine trees, but it was also warmer. The idea of being soaking wet in the cool autumn air was far more deplorable than the idea of being cold but dry. The mere thought of it mad