Luke set his boots by the fire, watching the flames dance over the damp leather as the warmth began to seep in, drying them. Ilyrana had done the same, pulling her boots off and setting them near the fire. Her pants were damp, but neither seemed inclined to go through the hassle of taking them off to dry them, so they stood close to the fire instead, allowing the heat to do the work.
Luke couldn't help but glance down at her feet. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen them before—after all, they'd shared close quarters enough times by now. He'd noticed them briefly when they'd slept in the same bed at the inn. He remembered thinking it'd be strange if she'd slept with her boots on, but at the time, he hadn't paid much attention to details like that.
