“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, a warm smile on his lips, “and thank you.” He leaned his head in a little closer, and Ickle found herself following herself following suit, until their noses were barely touching. “And…” he continued, his eyes half-lidded and his voice barely audible, “…if I may be so bold…”

Her eyes slowly closed and she lifted her lips up to his. “Yes, you may…” she breathed.

They both jumped when they heard the front door open and then slam shut. “Woo! It’s cold out there!” she heard somebody declare to themselves, and she immediately recognized the voice as Petina’s. She glanced at Penwright, who had a look of fright on his face, but it quickly faded, replaced with a resigned sigh.

Hoofsteps quickly walked from the front door down the hall towards the library. Petina rounded the corner into the room and stopped short when she saw them, Penwright’s forelegs still wrapped around Ickle. She glanced from Penwright to Ickle and then back, a huge, devious grin growing on her face.

“You mind?” Penwright asked half-heartedly, knowing full well her response.

“I certainly don’t,” she replied smoothly. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Penwright sighed in mild exasperation and rolled his eyes. A blue aura surrounded his horn as a small glowing square of energy formed on Petina’s chest and not too gently pushed her out, followed by the door slamming shut.

“But I’m cold!” she whined from the other side of the door. “I need to warm up by the fire!”

“Put on a sweater!” Penwright retorted. He shook his head, looking at Ickle with apologetic amusement.

“Talk about ruining the mood,” he said with a slight grin. “Maybe…maybe we could continue this later?” He nodded his head towards the door. “When we won’t be interrupted?”

Gears were clicking in Ickle’s mind, some old and rusted from lack of use and some new and clean. A thousand scenarios played in her head all at once, trying to decide what to do next, how to respond to Inkweld’s question. No wait.. she thought to herself, not Inkweld. Penwright. I’m with Penwright. Even though she reassured this fact to herself, she felt her body slipping out of Penwright’s arms, only hearing him ask her what was wrong in the background of her mind. I was about to kiss Penwright… her inner voice reminded her, not on the cheek but…

Suddenly a flush of blood assaulted her cheeks and she covered her mouth with her hooves, her wings quickly unfurling around her. Penwright wanted to kiss me on the m… on the m..outh…This realization didn’t help her cool down in the slightest, as her wings absorbed more heat from the fire. “I…” she nearly squeaked, “We almost..” her eyes flashed up to his, and as soon as her eyes met his the embarrassment shifted.

Mere seconds ago she felt like she was caught stealing something. His visage, blushing deep red and looking concerned and overjoyed at the same time, melted the fear and apprehension where it sat in her stomach like a ball of fat over a fire. Rather than feeling fear and guilt and shame, she felt…for a lack of a better term, hungry. This old, neglected feeling overtook her when she looked in his eyes now–a feeling like a roaring, ravaging fire filled her chest that set off sparklers in her skin, compelling her to reach out to him and make contact; as if touching his body, holding him against her, and kissing him could set them both ablaze.

They both sat there, as a fire crackled somewhere in the distance, frozen in each others’ gaze and the understanding of what just happened. Anyone looking on would’ve thought the moment was at a stalemate, with neither one knowing what to do, but every second the flames smoldered in the hearth and their eyes stayed together, they felt themselves being pulled together. It was Ickle who shattered the pregnant silence with a sharp intake of breath, clearly trying to find something to say. A furious blush ruined any illusion of indifference to what had just happened, as she tried to calmly ask, “So..which one of these books is your favorite..?”