Rave talked a lot when she was nervous. Hiking up the Allfather trail, my woman was talking a mile a minute. I’ve never been camping and neither had she. As a nymph I lived in and around the big water. As a shifter, Rave simply transformed and lived as a bird. This trip was a big step for us.

Spending days together in a small tent that’s serious couple stuff. Rave hopped from one foot to another as she pointed out different flora. Or asked if I needed more water. Or a break. I pretended to admire the mountain laurel.

Rave told me hiking the twin mountains was her favorite way to decompress, to refuel her soul. I’m amazed she can counsel so many people as a therapist. I freak out wnen I have to talk to people in person.

Now my sweetie is rummaging in her cavernous back pack for candy because she’s convinced my blood sugar. I watch her fumble a mass of dark brown ringlets on her head as she looked for a treat for me. She was a lush berry.

I plucked her up and kissed her hard.

“Babe, I’m fine,” I said.

“But, Cy, this is the furthest you’ve been away from the water. I want you to be comfortable. I have melted Turkish delights or high fiber nut bar.”

I pulled her close, tucking my head into where her silky shoulder meets her throat. Inhaling her sweetness, I nibbled her neck. Rave squealed. We held each other in the shadows of the mountains.

“What do your people call these mountains again?” I asked.

“Huginn and Muninn. Wait is there another name for?”

“Yes, the mountain streams feed into the rivers and finally into our sea. It’s hard to explain but I’ve tasted the sunlight on these mountains before. Water fae call them Thought and Memory but my grandpa said they were the Ears and the Eyes. He said the mountains knew when—“

Jumping up, Rave was in my arms kissing me. With that damn pack on, I toppled backwards. We wound up a delightful jumble of limbs and lips. Apparently my woman has a thing for water fae lore. I don’t know or care I just know I love camping.