Moonlight spilled across the river like molten silver, skimming the surface in shifting ribbons. Jorghan stood waist-deep in the water, his skin sheened with droplets that caught the pale glow, muscles flexing as he scrubbed himself with rough sand and river silt.
The current tugged gently at his thighs, swirling around him in cool, silky eddies. He had left the camp under the blue haze of twilight, needing the solitude, the clarity that only the river could give. His breathing was steady, his back broad and scarred, the tribal markings along his spine pulsing faintly in the night air.
He sensed her before he saw her.
A disruption in the silence, a disturbance in the scent of water and moss.
