Nimue had cried herself out by the time Layla landed awkwardly on the stony ground. She had held Maric’s hand, covering it with kisses and murmuring words of endearment to him. Thoroughly  wrung out, Nimue let Maric help her onto the dragon’s back. She looked down at him through long black lashes and held out her hand.<br/><br/>Even though she didn’t feel confident that he would join her, she persisted in waiting for him to accept her invitation. Where would they go? Where could they go? They could go back to the flooded hut at the foot of the Tor for a while, but soon word would reach the local priests of Maric’s defection to the dark side. They could not stay at Avalon together for no men lived there permanently. Nimue bit her lip as worry and doubt covered her thoughts like a black cloth.<br/><br/>They would have no means of making a way if Maric could no longer be a paladin unless he became a mercenary soldier, but he had more honor that to sell his arm to the highest bidder. She would not be able to bear seeing this mighty man reduced to being nothing more than a common farmer, not on her account. To leave with her now would be more costly than life for Maric but still, she held out her hand to him, waiting.