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There is dry blood on her hands. You cannot see it, but you can feel it in the way she shakes against you. She is not cold. The fire rages in front of you, bursting with dark, hot reds and oranges that soak into your eyes. You are blinded by the way it mesmerizes you.But you are not focused on the fire because all you can think about is her. She wavers against you, like a dead leaf in a storm. Fragile, a touch away from breaking. You can't bring yourself to look her in the face, because you know you will shake with her and you must be still. She whispers your name, barely audible, a single gust of crackling speech that begins to break you. You hold her tighter, digging your nails into the clothes on her back. It is all you can do not to scream.She speaks again, hardly loud enough to hear, but you hear it. The blood that must be hidden in the crevices of her palms and her heart, it sings to you and taunts you. You love her, it cries, and it makes you angry. If you could hide her from here, from the rain on the other side of the creaking wooden walls, from the blood that sings and the flowers that die, you would.Her words smell like rotting dandelions when she tells you she is scared. She is so scared, and you can hear it in the way she begins to sob. You don't know what she's scared of, but you know that you are scared too. You run a hand through the dense waves of hair down her back, and you let her cry into your shoulder.You love her. You have never felt this way before, yet you know the name the way you knew what it was the first time you smelled the rotting of a corpse. You have no way of knowing, yet you do, and it makes you feel very afraid. You want to say it now, to whisper it in consolation, but only crackling static leaves your throat. She is far warmer than the fire, her touch burning you as you cradle her, and her clothes smell like dandelions and sandalwood. How are you supposed to protect her?Her eyes meet yours, and she traces your lower lip with her thumb, slowing down across your scar, taking it in the way she does when you can't sleep. Her hands are so hot that you shiver, completely caught in her vice. Her eyes are ripe with tears, silver and breathtaking. It takes you back to the day you met. She whispers something to you. It's a promise. It's an apology. It is everything that it needs to be.You place a hand on hers, breathing in this moment of peace while you can. Nothing outside of your home can hurt her. You will make sure of that.