I just wanted to add a quick note before you continue on with the story. The name 'Saoirse,' is pronounced as [seer-sha] A beta-reader was confused about this so I thought I'd add this information. Enjoy!
The woman sat by a small stream, lost in the moon's reflection as it rippled off the water's surface. Summer would soon come to an end, but the night air still held the thickness of day.
She brushed her golden hair back, breathing in the calm and serene of the night. Wishing she could bottle it up and save it for when the nights, and her bed grow cold from the breath of autumn.
Saoirse, the maiden, at least that's what her kin knew her as, waited for her sorceress, Maeve. Their love wasn't attuned to the puritanical views of the land, but her sorceress knew of a place they could love and live freely. Saoirse knew the days leading up to this move would pass slowly, but the thoughts of them being together unjudged kept her moving and hopeful.
She waited, determined to see her love before the eastern sky beamed in hues of amber and gold. It'd been weeks since she woke in the arms of her lover, surrounded by those raven tresses which always smelled of honeysuckle.
Maeve's soft footsteps made little noise in the leaves and underbrush. Her training had not only been in the arcane, but stealth as well. She moved like a cat. Sticking to shadows, and always aware of danger.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," she said, pulling her golden-haired love into a kiss. Running her hands over the woman's hips and small of her back, relief fell settled in. "Shh, you didn't get here too soon."
"I heard a rumble not long ago and grew scared," Saoirse said, nuzzling her neck.
"The battle is heading off to the south. We're safe here tonight. That I promise."
"I still cant help but worry, Maeve. Especially about you. I'm so scared."
Maeve pulled her close, though urging Saoirse's dress from her shoulders. "Shh, don't worry. The war is nearing it's end each day, my love. It can't last forever. It could end tonight even."
"I hate the bloodshed. All of it." The maiden pulled away to sit on the ground. "I worry about you all day, every day, Maeve. I can't keep from it."
"I told you I have a plan. I know where we will be safe. Forever." She inhaled, thankful the night was clear for once. Their trysts were too often in haylofts and under sheds due to the rains.
"I fear no such place exists, but in our thoughts and dreams. A fairytale." Saoirse huffed, bringing her knees together. "I'd do anything to get out of this place. Hell, I'd swing an axe if they'd let me."
Settling down beside her, Maeve took her hand. "I know you would. It's hard, but I promise we will get through it. I'll be safe. I'll desert if I have to."
"No, gods, no that's worse. Please don't." Deserters were flayed, then burned. Saoirse shuddered at the memory of seeing her beloved uncle executed this way.
"You worry for no reason, Saoirse." Maeve kissed her, desire brewing in the pit of her stomach. "You know I like to unwrap my gifts. Now there's that smile." She ran her hands along the maiden's sides. "Undress."
"You know I'd like to see your body too but what's in your satchel?"
Swinging it around to her front, she opened it. "I brought a few supplies." The sorceress laid down a fur blanket and positioned some candles around it.
Snapping her fingers, they all lit. "That's all the magic for tonight. Don't want to get caught. But I think the moon may have given us enough light."
"Keep the candles," said the maiden. "I like to see the flames dance on your skin. The memory will give me some respite in the days to come."
The sorceress nodded, undoing her leather jerkin and kicking out of her boots. "Lie down," she said. "Spread your legs a little."
"Like this?"
