Rye marked where Stark bounded toward the woods but gladly accepted the warm hug and the kiss. His lips tingled with the hesitant brush of  Emery's full lips. He held her gently at first, afraid that he would offend her, but as she pressed closer to him, he deepened the kiss, crushing her to him.<br/><br/>"Soon," he murmured against her cheek as he held her. His senses were on alert for him to become too distracted with her body. What he needed was to do, no, what they needed to do, was to take Stark out. He wasn't a super hero. He wasn't a mutt either, Damn the cheating eyes of those in the Capital and the doubly cursed Gamemakers. He only had a vague idea of what they needed to do to stop this insanity once and for all and then they could relax for a bit. A low groan escaped him.He wouldn't allow himself to believe one or both of them would be dead before the day was over.<br/><br/>"Em, who was Stark chasing? I really don't believe in ghosts, but I could swear that was Eden." Rye turned toward the path, his arm protectively around Emery's shoulder. They had to focus, getting caught up in love would get them killed for sure. "You know, my mother used to tell spooky stories at night when we sat around the fireplace," Rye said,<br/><br/>His eyes took on a faraway look. He could smell the smoke and the bubbling stew, hear the crackle of the fire and the chuckle of his brother, feel the drowsy feeling as the heat from the flame warmed him after a cool day of tilling the ground.<br/><br/>"She said there had been a kind of people who were dead yet lived, that they thrived on warm blood from living people. They couldn't be killed, not truly killed except by pulling the body in many pieces and burning them with fire. Do you suppose that would work with Stark? If we could shoot pieces off him and burn them one at a time." Rye shrugged and laughed sheepishly. "Silly legends. I guess I will just try to shoot the bastard and hope he has enough sense to die."<br/><br/>He started down the hill, holding out his hand to Emery.