Bess reveled in the quiet beauty before her, the perfection of it all. Her heart soared with the night breezes as they plucked light off of the waters and the grasses, the aspens and the brush – leaves made of glitter under the clear sky. All about was the warmth of the lord at her back, lost to his fairy lands as she was lost in them. Still the soft puff of air against her cheek carried a humid chill of deep night and all was laid bare and alive before them. 

For a moment, a heartbeat, Bess was made one with the world about her. Through the touch and the words of the man wrapped about her, she felt she knew some great, unspeakable truth whispered into her. It was a catch in her throat, a tingle throughout her person. Then it was gone and left behind it a blessing, the hand of God upon her breast and here, she was to be, for whatever space she was. 

Heathen though it might have been to imagine that her world and this fairy one could exist together in tandem, yet Bess' youth worked for her and in her untutored imaginings, even such disparate parts could become one, glorious whole. 

His voice returned her to the world and she breathed it in, regaining her senses as it were. His life in her hands, this great lord outside of his home. She could feel the rush of excitement that this need not be the only time and she tensed with it, but held her tongue. Anything she could think to say would only seem course and unseemly. She was a tavern keep's daughter, was she not? 

As he wrapped her snug into the cloak smelling of citrus and the bay leaf powders her father kept a tin of, she let her fancy take her. What had she dreamt of before this? Fairy lights on a breeze? Hidden eyes taking in her morning singing? 

“Nowt as glorious as this,” she bit her lip and looked about. “Never had time ta think on anythin' so fine.” With a shake of her head, she strove to gain her decency back and found it completely lacking. “It's all so lovely, innit? Like fairy lights at Christmas up at the manor. Only not on just a bit of tree, this 'ere's all bouts, like a king's ransom of it all. An' there's the ride an' this bit'o Shadow he is,” she patted the crest of the horse beneath with a smile. “An' you!” She turned slightly to look up at him. “'M no doxy ta be ta'en in by a pretty face nor a bit o'flash. But you, you 'aven't asked for a bit a'me, have you? No, it's all lights an' rides through a land what don't exist nowhere else, an' you, a lovely lord such as yisself, askin' ta know annithin' about little me?” She laughed then. “If y'ain't a fairy lord, you're barmy. Y'd have ta be. 

“Ain't got nowt but th' tavern an' Da an' Theo. Tha's m'brother, Theo is. I done little else but clean up an' cook an' watch over him when Da can't. Theo's a bit of a handful, he is. Him and the Little boy. The pair of them can get up to mischief afore you blink, let alone after!” 

With a tap of her knuckles against her arm, she peered up at him. There was a glitter back and she could see him almost plain, enough to see no sign of anything supernatural, though it wouldn't make sense for him to look anything but real, if he was walking the lands about. “And if we're bein' honest, I didn't know what it were I was t'do ta save you. I'm thinkin' ya did it yerself on me, all unwillin' like. I wouldn't ha' known how ta make anyone leave ya be. Sides, what was they chasin' you for any ways?” 

Oh, there was the twist of those lips and if she knew boys, she knew that half cocked smile. Her eyes narrowed up at him. He was a fox, he was, all the way through. But he was her fox and if she could hold to the evening a bit longer so as to get him to not run off, she'd count herself lucky, for as he said, her memories would not die with the morning.