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. As
he did so, the fire's last little flame flickered and died.
Darkness warmer and softer than the blankets covered them.
Outside they could hear the wind laughing, the trees
whispering to themselves.
"Or we will perish . . ." Raistlin murmured.
Amberyl woke from a fitful sleep wondering, for a
moment, where she was. Stirring slightly, she felt the
mage's arm wrapped around her protectively, the warmth of
his body lying next to hers. Sighing, she rested her head
against his shoulder, listening to the shallow, too rapid
breathing. She let herself lie there, surrounded by his
warmth, putting off the inevitable for as long as possible.
Outside, she could no longer hear the wind and knew
the storm must have ended. The darkness that covered them
was giving way to dawn. She could barely make out the
blackened remnants of the firewood in the gray half-light.
Turning slightly, she could see Raistlin's face.
He was a light sleeper. He stirred and muttered at her
movement, coughing, starting to wake. Amberyl touched
his eyelids lightly with her fingertips, and he sighed deeply
and relaxed back into sleep, the lines of pain smoothing
from his face.
How young he looks, she thought to herself
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