She clung tight as she breathed in the scent of him,
The scent of soft pine,of the misry dew, of the lush grass they lay in.

Something rustled in the bushes behind him,
But she didn't spare a passing glare,
In the morning,she'd tell him,
She'd tell him that he was the one.
The final claim.

He shifted in her arms,
His breath caught,as though strangled.
She hushed him lovingly as she often did and closed her eyes tighter,
breathing in the tangy scent that now coated his soft pine.
She huffed it out inching closer till all she could smell was his fresh scent again,
Warm drops of dew sprayed across her face as a gentle breeze blew,
A slow trickle of the soothing rain pacifying her breathing as sleep clung to her, as she clung to him.
With that the lovely maiden fell asleep in her beloved warm arms.