(It really is hard to keep up with everything happening on the Isle. So 
while I think this should bring our merchant and Duke up to speed.. I'm sure 
something has happened to change things already. *sigh* What can ya do? 
--Stay online 24hrs a day? Heh, wish I could. ;) Anyhow, look at that 
beginning Jer did. *sighs wistfully* Isn't he great?)

~~~~~~~~~~

<Branton> ..The feel of his nose hairs crackling frozen-brittle against his 
nostrils gradually forces Darell to a sniffelling, unhappy state of
wakefulness. Blinking open eyes crusted with dust and ice the young nobleman 
sees nothing yet in the pitch black of his predawn tent, not even the 
flicker of coals from the brazier he was certain he had left burning. He 
draws a deep breath through his yawn to wake himself and instantly regrets 
it as the dry freeze sets a layer of frost down his gullet and sears his 
lungs to burning coughs. Each inhale of coughed air only seems to add to his 
pains until he willfully forces himself to calm down.

"Damn cold," he whispers hoarsely to the empty night around him. Shifting 
carefully on the thick and warm downfilled cot mattress so as not to loose 
any heat from his blankets, he reaches out a bare hand and arm to feel for 
his breeches and boots. "Ack! They are like ice," he hisses as he pulls his 
numbed fingers back from what had felt like leather. Knowing he has to get 
dressed or die here frozen he snatches the boots and leggings under the 
covers with him screaming softly as the frigid fabric touches his 'warmest' 
parts.

<Branton> ..Shivering and clenching teeth that would otherwise be chattering 
themselves to ivory sand in his mouth, the young Duke huddles
around his clothes wishing deperately for them to warm faster than they are. 
Long moments of silence, other than his own breathing and heartbeat, pass as 
he slowly curls tighter and tighter about his clothing to leech out the ice.

"Dd-damnit," he grumbles wishing also for a light, "tt-there wwasn'tt evenn 
a ddamnabbbble ww-arning fff-ffor tt-this." His mind whirls back around 
memories of last night wondering if he had missed some sign while staring 
upon the beautiful Aurine as they laughed and talked and he even coaxed her 
into a dance. Suddenly her sunny smile explodes to the front of his mind and 
just as quickly flims over with blue-black ice and the shade of death. A 
string of epithets concerning father winter and mother nature and horse dung 
stream in guttural cries as he forces himself into his half-thawed breeches 
and boots of iceblocks.

Then springing up from his cot in a fearful flash, ignoring its squeaks of 
protest and his own warnings of rising from the rickety contraptions, he 
grips the corners of his blankets tightly at his adam's apple to cloak his 
bare chest. "AURINE!" he cries through his
tent once as he stumbles around, banging his shins against ice-rimed chests 
and camp furniture, in search of some shirts in the dark. He closes a fist 
over some frost-crackling cloth not caring what it is and tears through his 
tent flap into the night.

The night is almost as dark as inside his tent, the moon only a
pale glow behind the thickness of silver clouds shovelling off their burden 
of thick, heavy flakes. Already a layer just a little deeper than his ankles 
covers the small clearing they had picked upon a little knoll less than a 
few hours ride from the falls. The firepit they had been using for two days 
now was dark and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the white carpet. 
If he hadn't noticed through the icey-white cloud of his own breath a few of 
the stones he had placed around it he would have surely broken his leg going 
through it.

"AURINE?!" he calls through the stillness. Only his echos answer him and 
even those quickly dying in the muffle of falling snow. Even for the storm 
it was unnervingly silent. Barely risking a glance to the trees only yards 
from him, he concentrates on the dark shadow of her
tent and soon trudges through the clods he has kicked up to her. "Aurine?!? 
Aurine!! Wake up! Aurine? I am coming in!" he calls through the tent trying 
to wake her and finally just barging into its darkness.

<Aurine> "Darrell?' her reply comes just as the flap of her tent is thrown 
open. "Darrell, what's wrong?" she coughs, her voice urgent in her 
questioning for all the racket he was making. Thick blankets, and the cloak 
she had added when she had woken a couple of hours earlier to a horrid 
chill. This was worse. "Gods! It's cold!" she starts as soon as that frigid 
air sinks into her warmed skin. Her tent is as dark as his, the brazier 
dead.. to her bleary, adjusting eyes there is only his dark shape hovering 
in the opening that she can see. She coughs again, rasping for breath in her 
surprise and for the icy air. Her manners left her in his urgent tone, his 
name bursting from her lips for the first time since he had coaxed her to 
waltz.. his title the only thing he had heard before that.

<Branton> "Oh by the grace of the gods," Darell gasps in relief as he
crosses the tent, gliding like the shade of Death himself to Aurine's gaze, 
and drops to his knees upon the carpeted ground next to her cot. In fact so 
close to her cot that he jams his hip against it, shaking it a little though 
his encircling arms hold her steady enough. Lifting her from the cot he 
squeezes her against his, she realizes with a start, bare chest and wraps 
her up in his strong, warm arms and his own heavy layers of blankets. "Oh 
thank the gods," he pants softly, his hot breath washing through her hair 
and tingling against her scalp as it
fights back the cold night from touching her. "I was afraid I might have
been too late when I woke up and found it so cold. Aurine, I don't know how 
it came upon us so fast, but it is snowing out there."

<Aurine> She can only gasp as she feels his strong arms wrap about her and 
all but haul her down from her cot. Thick blankets get tangled and mashed 
between them, and she shivers for the unblanketed areas at her back. "It 
can't be.." she can only mutter, words trailing off as it there was no 
reason not to believe him as her cool cheek is pressed to rest against his 
chest from the strength of his embrace. She twists an arm awkwardly to tug 
at the blankets smashed between them, pulling them down and to her lap 
before encircling her arms loosely about his waist and beneath his cloak. 
"I'm alright," she murmurs reassuringly as she gives him a gentle squeeze.

* Branton breathes another relieved sigh at her confirmation and relaxes
slightly around her, his arms now just protective and warming instead of
clutching. He tips his head to press his lips to the top of her head. "Thank 
the gods," he whispers the prayer again, his mouth nuzzling against the 
silken threads of her hair as his breath streams from his nose and for the 
cold he cannot smell the soaps and perfumes of her trade upon her. For some 
reason his heart misses a beat for missing her scent. "We.. we need to get 
you dressed," he offers also in soft whisper as his fingers slowly uncurl 
and release the fists of her thick algode nightgown he had been clutching.

<Aurine> "I agree," she nods, sleep mussed ringlets tickling beneath his
chin, her cheek rubbing just so against the soft curled hair of his chest he 
might think she was nuzzling to get closer. But the slow, gradual laxing of 
her arms says otherwise.

* Branton takes her slipping embrace and the muffled sound of her words as 
if she were drifting off again. "No, no.. Aurine, wake up? Are you up?" He 
shifts the handful of blankets in his left hand to the right and then 
reaches within the small tent of blanket he holds around them both to tip 
her chin up gently.

<Aurine> And those almond shaped eyes blink open to view his shadowed
features. "Tired.." she murmurs, "..but I am awake. Bert is going to throw a 
fit knowing I'm still out here.." he would likely know more about Bert now, 
the older fellow that was a long time friend of her family. A slight smile 
had drawn wrly upwards at one corner of her lips but it fades, melting into 
a slow, concerned frown as her eyes drop from his own, fixing blankly around 
the vicinity of his chin. "I hope they're alright.." her caravan would be 
outside in this as well.

<Branton> "Shh, its alright," he whispers reassuringly, his tone confident 
for its softness as he explains, "We are further inland from there. The 
storm would have hit them before us. They probably saw it coming around 
dinnertime and went into MystHaven. Bert is a smart fellow and in any case 
he would not want to listen to Jaydon's complaining. I have never heard of a 
hired blade more intent on his luxuries." He chuckles in jest to lighten her 
mood.

<Aurine> For a wonder, it does seem to work. To some degree. Her gaze
focuses once more upon his dark eyes and a small, forced smile inches
upwards at one corner of her lips. "And I don't believe he'll desist until 
he's home with his Josalyn," the woman's name comes with a small degree of 
distaste that he might note. She couldn't be jealous of her, could she? She 
ends the wandering thoughts with a firm shake of her curly head, "Besides, 
they have more resources there then we do here,"
meaning that she intends to focus on the problem at hand. "I need to get
dressed,' she reminds him.

<Branton> "Oh! Oh yes, of course of course. I'm sorry," he stammers and
gently, but quickly pulls back. Shivers stab into his naked torso laced on 
the steel of winterblade. "Allow me a moment to ppull on tthis ss-shirt?" 
his teeth chatter to the end as he already begins trying to stuff himself 
into the pair of extra breeches he had mistakenly grabbed.

<Aurine> She catches the blankets that had been trapped between them when he 
had pulled her from the cot, and quickly lift them to cover her front half 
in protection from the biting chill that he had previously guarded her from. 
"Certainly.. of course,' she mutters between teeth that clench from that 
first sudden breath of icy air. She shifts about upon her knees, and braves 
slipping a hand out from the blankets to reach towards clothes she had laid 
carelessly over her bags the
night before.

<Branton> "Oh, da-" he catches himself from swearing in her presence and
offers a blind smile towards her, "Sorry, I must not have grabbed a shirt. 
My brazier went out from the cold too, so did the fire outside. I.. I'll 
just run back quick." He straightens up proudly and tries to summon what 
dignity he feels he might have left as he drapes the leggings over one bare 
arm, then hitches the cloak of layered blankets a little tighter over his 
shoulders. "Once you are dressed, I think we should stay together in a 
single tent. Do you want to come over to mine?"

<Aurine> A small moment of silence follows his question as she dumbly nods 
in reply. Catching the simple fact that she can't be seen in the dark 
shadowed tent, she speaks quickly, "Y..yes. I will be there shortly." 
Movement is heard as she staggers to her feet, blankets and all, and then he 
would feel his cloak brushing his arm or his hand.. perhaps simply thrust 
forwards to gently brush his middle. "Take this with you."

* Branton wraps his fingers gently around the tight little fist that pressed 
into his hard stomach and carefully pushes it with the cloak back to her in 
the darkness. "It will be alright, Lady, I can move pretty fast. Just bundle 
up in it and come quickly once you are dressed? I would feel better knowing 
you are keeping warm in it."

<Aurine> "I have a cloak.. and I will bring all of these blankets with me as 
well. Now don't be foolish," as if to emphasize her point, her teeth chatter 
softly in the eerie silence of the night, the muted sound just barely 
reaching his ears. "Take it," another hand reaches forwards. At first it 
lays over the one that had caught her own hand, and then her fingers can be 
felt gently pulling his own from her fisted hand and shifting them over the 
bundled fabric of the cloak. "I will be
there in a few minutes."

* Branton frowns in the darkness and takes the cloak finally. "Please do not 
be too long?" his voice is soft and pleading, then before he can stop 
himself he has bent closer to the heat radiating off of her so that his lips 
might home in upon her cheek as one of his arrows to target. "Thank you," he 
whispers then to her ear before he disappears out into the night, the tent 
flap letting in a swirl of snowy breeze.
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