Once more, Fenrir shared a meal with the Smiths in their small cottage home. Much like last night, Fenrir felt a bit out of place in this dining room, and a gruff contrast to these two distinguished women. Unlike last night, however, it didn’t seem like a cloud of uneasiness loomed over them. It was a nice change, and Fenrir found it easier to steal the occasional glance at Rose. He wondered when, and if, he’d cease to be astonished by her image. This love was young, like a flame; very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. He was hopeful that it would grow into an older, disciplined love, which was like coals; deep-burning and unquenchable. 

Fenrir perked up a bit at the sound of Rose’s words. She was accepting it decently well already, he thought, compared to first hearing the news just last night. Still, he wanted to make sure she didn’t feel rushed, and wanted to let her know she wasn’t restrained.

“Rose,” he looked at her with a calm smile, “I spoke with your grandmother last night and I’ve decided to stay here for a while. I want to let you know that you may take as much time as you need, until you feel comfortable enough to leave.” Sure, that means he’d have to sleep more nights in the ill-matched guest room, but his discomfort was nothing next to making sure she felt comfortable. 

“And of course, after we leave, we can always come visit your grandmother and stay a few days. I’m sure that would be alright with her.” He glanced at Willow inquisitively.

“Of course,” Willow nodded, pleased to hear that Fenrir wasn’t the type to cloister her granddaughter from the world. Turning back to face Rose, he continued.

“It’s only a little over a day’s travel. I often make the hike when I need supplies from town.”