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away.
    “There’s a cave this way,” he said, “away from the direct push of the wind. We can build a fire, and I’ll find us some meat for dinner.”
    “Thank you,” Sade said.
    She saw, looking around her, that the mountain wasn’t as desolate as she’d first thought. Away from the ledge, a thick, scrub-like grass grew in strips along the ground; it was scattered with tiny yellow and white flowers.
    Haytham followed her gaze. “The flowers are edible,” he said, “and will go well with our meal. I’ll find you a basket. Try to gather as many as you can while I’m off hunting. Also –“ he pointed – “in that direction are some wild fruits and mushrooms. The fruits are safe to eat, but some mushrooms are poisonous, and you don’t know how to tell them apart. So don’t touch them.”
    Sade nodded.
    Without bothering to get dressed, Haytham led her to his cave, and she followed. The air here was cold and crisp; wind tickled her face and exposed arms, making the hem of her elven robes dance about her ankles.
    The cave’s mouth was large, letting in the warm rays of the afternoon sun. Yet something about the cave’s shape kept the wind from intruding much past the threshold, although its voice was an unending background noise.
    Inside, Haytham had a fire-darkened alcove, the floor littered with the remnants of charred sticks. On the wall at its left were three nails from which hung metal pots. To the right of the fireplace lay a pile of mismatched pillows and a blanket that looked as if it had been sewed together from dozens of tiny pelts. On the wall above the bedding hung a rough shelf. On it sat whittled figurines, mostly of animals: creatures resembling foxes, birds frozen in various forms of movement, something that looked like a snake. The snake was incomplete. A sharp piece of metal sat beside it.
    “Did you make those?” Sade asked.
    Haytham shrugged. “It’s a hobby,” he said.
    Sade stepped closer to the whittled animals. Each could easily fit in her palm, and yet they were so expressive. One of the foxes had been caught mid-pounce, while another lay lazily on its side, eyes half-closed as though pretending not to watch its younger counterpart.
    “They’re amazing,” Sade said.
    Haytham shrugged, but Sade could see his cheeks growing pink. It made her smile. Funny that he should be embarrassed to share his whittling, but he had no concerns about walking around buck naked, while her eyes took in every part of his body.
    He went to the fireplace, and, from beneath the hanging pots, retrieved a large, hand-woven basket, as wide as three of her hands lined up fingertip to wrist. Haytham held the basket out by one of its two handles; Sade took it.
    They returned to the mouth of the cave. When she stepped into the sun, Sade found the wind here seemed lighter, more playful -- though she couldn’t figure out why. Her spirit seemed to lighten as well.
    Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp pain burned through her soul-bond. She gasped, and brought her hand up to her chest, trying to soothe the pain.
    Haytham glanced at her, and at the hand rubbing her chest.
    “It’s your soul-bond, isn’t it?” he said.
    Sade nodded.
    “Well,” he said, gruffly. “The sooner we’re done with that, the better.” Sade nodded again, and looked away. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
    Haytham broke the awkward silence. “Take the heads and stems of the flowers, but leave the roots to regrow,” he said. “Try to fill up the basket as well as you can before I return. We’ll use them tonight and in the morning, so the more we have, the better.”
    Sade nodded again, and Haytham dropped to his knees on the ground and shifted.
    Turning toward a patch of flowers she saw growing brightly nearby, Sade went to gather their dinner.

Chapter 6: Mate of Flesh
    For Haytham, escaping the Edenost court and stretching his wings to the sky was a relief.
    The mortal’s weight on his back, clinging so tightly, made the