(Greener pastures means trying to settle on the next best thing: a white wolf.)

Her arms wind around his neck and she's returning those kisses with just as much eagerness. A burning need, really, far worse than any flame she's conjured. She doesn't think about the past, then--he banishes every thought she has. The threat of the Long Night, the wandering aimlessness she's dealt with the last two days, why she's returned, and how he's here.

"Today. We arrived a few hours ago." She stops kissing him long enough to meet his eyes. Her lashes and cheeks remain damp, but at least there aren't any tears. "What are you doing here? How long have you--"

And now her brows furrow. How is he here?