Carolina left the inn with Grey beside her. She was laughing. She had been laughing, perhaps, for the last three hours. She was full of gin and didn't care who knew it. She walked along the little cobblestones that made up the country lane outside the inn, near-hopping from one to the other as Grey lumbered behind her with a smooth grin on his face. His eyes were down. He did not chide her for acting the fool.

''That was some tavern, Sir Grey. Some tavern indeed. Why, I haven't had a night like that -- Oh! For quite some time...'' Carolina sighed, gushing up at the moon. The pale reflection was imbedded in her eyes. It was all a'flutter. A great white circle tonight, like a silver lake suspended in the middle of the infinite, willing itself to transform. Perhaps into a butterfly. That was how she felt. Like she was flying since leaving the inn. Then, moving herself around, she took in Grey.

The man was walking towards her, smiling. Yet the smile was only in his eyes. His lips were silent. She sighed again as he came closer, and he lifted his hands to meet her; and without realising it, she did the same. 

''Yes, it was quite some tavern,'' she said into his hands as he brought them towards her face. The gin cuddled her, just like Grey cuddled her. His rough palms had encircled her cheeks, and then without asking, he kissed her.

''Why you--'' She said, staggering. She stumbled away from him, wafting with her arms, quite drunk. He studied her in response--not quite boldly--though perhaps rather drunk himself.

''You ponderous man!'' She yelped, then slapped her hand against her mouth. One of her fingers did a little something. She had pointed at him -- as if to scold him, yet she also seemed to think it rather important to hide the blush that now coated her cheeks.

''I been waiting to do that all night,'' was all he said. And he was half-cloaked in shadow, and half in moonlight. She wanted to continue to argue with him; but she could see how vulnerable he looked past the half-cast light. His eyes looked tired, sweet, and rather shy. 

''Well,'' she jutted her chin, pondering her next words. ''Well, I suppose given the circumstances,'' she let on as he came and stood over her. And then a warm feeling filled her belly as he once again loomed large over her person. She found herself staring up at the incline of his jaw, those big green eyes, that wondrous wavy hair. And her eyelids fell curiously low to his open shirt. She found herself trailing it with her fingers.

''I do think you intend to take advantage of me and my state, Sir,'' she whispered. Her words were in no way meant to deter him. In fact, she let her eyes meet his own, and she gazed into his eyes rather hard. It was an open invitation.

Grey came down and took her, and she fell into him quite easily. Up and off her feet, like one of those sweet, doughy wives. He hoisted her up against an oak. She had not realised they had stepped onto the ranch-trail that led to Emir's farm, about twenty or so steps away from the inn and well into the shade near the river brook. He was already pawing at her hips. She was gasping at nothing; around air. He was deep in her neck, already kissing. Her eyes did something unintelligible as she scraped her fingers across his back. She wished to say: 'Yes,' or perhaps, 'more,' but she was far too proud to will him further, less he think her wanton, or worse: a whore.

So she let him take him slide her down into his chest, where their eyes met, and by now her skin was burning. She clutched at him, feeling the sweat upon her brow. Her eyes did a lazy tour of his; and his hers. He was now panting too. The man came closer; and shyly, she leaned in as well. Then their lips came together in the briefest inspection. Just three small kisses; a little saliva shared between them; and a final lick of the tongue. It was at this moment that she felt him truly understand her needs, for the moment she parted her mouth to give him a kiss of her honey, he dove in for more; and she groaned into the roughness. The desire. He was pawing and stroking at every corner of her hair as he twisted his mouth against hers; and she too threw herself into him, gasping with each and every kiss. It grew rougher and rougher until at last she felt her dress too heavy upon her skin, and that they were far too far from home.

''Grey,'' she said. ''Grey,'' she warned. She tried clearing her throat, but he was once again at it. Biting at her neck. Then, louder, almost shrill: ''Grey...!?''

It was at that moment she saw the wolf standing not ten feet away from them, right there, in the middle of the brook. It raised its head, perked its ears, then raised its heckles; and growled. It was a thing of leery orange eyes and long white teeth. A small silver trout wriggled beneath its paw, now forgotten. Then, in short succession, three more of them appeared, each of them shaggier and leaner than the next. Carolina felt herself letting go of Grey, her hands slipping clear of his shirt. Then with an open sense of bewilderment and a very real pang of fear, she felt a lump form in her throat that just wouldn't budge. She looked to the man for aid, though he was already placing himself between her and them.

''You get ready to run,'' was all he said, though his voice was fraught with fear and caution.

Where had they come from? She wondered as she looked around. (TBC)