"You forbade me the use of the word opposite that which is wife," she said, voice tight and colder than the morning's hint of frost.  "You questioned my oath, my devotion to it and you.  You refuse my counsel at every turn.  You fail to provide enough that we hover on the brink of starvation and have no roof but the stars, no bedchamber but this forest, no blankets and bedding but each other, and yet you dare call me wife?  You disturb and belittle my patient, my dedication to getting us a fish and arrogantly stomp about so that even where I to try again the streambed is so disturbed that no fish will come to it?"<br/><br/>Vesta pulled her legs up and braced on one hand then rose.  Her other hand dangled by her side.  No, not exactly at her side - it dangled slightly behind her, not visible to his eyes.<br/><br/>"Do not dare, dare to call me wife when you deny me the use of the matching term," she warned, anger rising in her voice, head held up high so that the collar around her neck was plainly visible.  It seemed to have shrunk a little bit, keeping in close contact with her neck even though she'd lost flesh there and, never thick to begin with, it now appeared too delicate to support her head.  "Do not," she said again and took a step back from him.<br/><br/>"You scared off the fish, Prince," venom, mocking derision, dripped off the title she gave him.  "Fortunately I was still able to make you something to eat."  Watching his face, she saw the lack of understanding in his face and at that moment her half-hidden hand slung the mud in it, the mud he'd accused her of playing in, in an arc that saw it splatter into him from his left hip up and across her neck and face.  It was cold and the pebbles embedded in it hit like tiny rocky fists.  Vesta crossed her arms, standing straight, daring him to do something about it.