Warrick chuckles, nodding as he guides me toward the nearby trees. We reach the clearing adorned with a circle of towering boulders. Warrick sheds his clothes and undergoes his transformation. Blushing, I avert my gaze, unable to witness the shift until I feel the soft brush of his fur against my side. I gaze at him, mesmerized by his beauty and majestic presence. His midnight blue eyes blend seamlessly with the night sky, sparkling with the moon's radiant glow. Sitting beside him, we share a silent moment before Warrick breaks the stillness with a resounding howl. Encouraged, I join him in a harmonious chorus of primal howling.
After an hour of howling merriment, I fall back, overcome with laughter, gazing up at the star-studded night sky. The pixeleon runs and jumps through the grass in an attempt to catch a little glowing bug. The night sky vanishes, replaced by the sight of Warrick standing above me. 'There's something I want to give you,' he utters nervously.
'A gift?' I ask curiosity piqued.
'If you will accept it,' he replies, producing a breathtaking round locket from his pocket.
I gasp at the locket's exquisite beauty, swaying from the nymph nectar as I rise to my feet. 'Where did you get this?' I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from it.
'I paid the ursin to craft it earlier at the Elemental Forge,' Warrick explains. 'After Xander heard me out and learned the truth about what happened between Gretchen, the mystic council, and me, I went and collected it. Then, I bought this tunic and came straight to you at the Familiar Haven.'
'You had this specially made for me?' I whisper, overcome with a mixture of surprise and gratitude.
'It's a moon locket,' he reveals, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
He steps behind me, delicately placing the locket around my neck and clasping it at the back.
As I peer down, I cup the locket, marvelling at the meticulous craftsmanship. Fashioned from gold with intricate patterns and adorned with a large blue gem at its centre, it evokes the ethereal beauty of a shimmering moon suspended in a midnight sky. Despite its charm, the locket defies my attempts to open it as if safeguarding a secret.
‘It’s beautiful. It looks like the moon,’ I slur a little in awe as the gemstone shimmers under the moonlight. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
'I'm glad you like it,' Warrick responds, his smile genuine. He then glances over his shoulder. 'We should return to the inn so you can rest for the night,' he suggests.
'I suppose we should,' I agree, swaying slightly as I step forward. Just as I'm on the verge of toppling over, Warrick catches me, pulling me close against his chest. His hands send a tingly electric wave throughout my body.
‘You feel like fireworks,’ I slur, my words impacted by the drink.
Warrick chuckles, his laughter resonating warmly. I gaze at his lips, my vision slightly hazy. 'You know, since I met you, I've always wondered what your lips would taste like?' I confess drunkenly, the words slipping from my lips without inhibition.
Warrick's laughter continues a musical accompaniment to our intoxicated conversation. 'I've also wondered what yours would taste like, too,' he admits, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
'And why do you have to be so incredibly attractive? Your level of hotness should be illegal. Even in my world, no man could ever look so handsome,' I slur, a mixture of awe and frustration lacing my words.
'Is that going to be a problem for you?' Warrick teases, his smile widening.
'You're kidding me. It's already a problem. You have no idea how difficult it is not to touch you. Sometimes, my tongue even wants to lick you. Traitorous tongue,' I grumble, annoyance seeping into my voice as I sway backward. Yet, Warrick tightens his grip, steadying me and bringing me face-to-face with his luscious lips once more.
'You know, since I met you, I've always wondered what your lips would taste like,' I drunkenly repeat, the thought swirling in my mind.
'You've already said that,' Warrick chuckles, his amusement evident.
'Oh, did I?' I ask, momentarily confused by my own repetition.
Warrick brushes his nose against my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin. 'I want to taste you too,' he whispers, sending a surge of heat through my body.
'Okay,' I respond, gazing into his eyes, my voice filled with longing.
'But not like this, while you're drunk,' he asserts, his tone gentle and caring. 'As much as I'd love to take advantage of this moment, even just to kiss you, I won't. I want you to be fully present and for the kiss to be genuine. I don't want you to regret it.'
'Warrick,' I grumble, my desire for him blending with a hint of disappointment.
However, before our conversation progresses, Imogen and Orelious come racing out of the Starry Hearth tavern, calling our names frantically.
With incredible strength, Warrick effortlessly lifts me as though I were weightless, slinging me over his shoulder as he races past the boulders toward the others. 'What is it?' he asks, setting me down gently, though I still find myself swaying unsteadily, causing Warrick to hold me securely against his chest.
'Janie,' Imogen says, her voice filled with concern. 'She had a premonition. Three wizards, a werewolf, and an old witch entered the Starry Hearth Tavern, searching for all of us. They were asking everyone if they'd seen us. The wolf is meant to help them track us down. Janie described the younger wizard with an athletic build, ash-brown hair, and hazel eyes. He wore a flowing robe of deep indigo with shimmering silver sigils. The second wizard wore an emerald robe with golden runes. He had brown hair with strands of grey and light blue eyes. The third wizard is elderly, with a long beard that cascades down to his chest, speckled with silver and white. She said he had pale, almost colourless eyes, a balding head, and tufts of white hair around his ears. He wore a red robe with silver markings. As for the witch, she had long grey hair, countless wrinkles, and sunken dark eyes. He wore an old garment of faded violet and jet-black, along with a black cloak with a necklace of bones and teeth. Xander said she described Thaddeus, Venlore, Armos and Gretchen,' Imogen tells us, her words hanging in the air.