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Relief spread across his face as he reached the apex of the hill and saw the small assembly of houses clustered near its base. The sun would be setting soon and the last thing Aiden McCants wanted was to spend another night sleeping at the side of the road where the danger of animals and bandits always loomed in the backdrop.

Tucking his uncommonly dark wavy locks behind his ears as his heavy boots trudged down the hill, the young man spotted the small river that undoubtedly encouraged the foundation of the little town. Rivers reminded him of Crossmount and that only brought images of Morgan back. Kneeling by the edge of the running water as he settled his bag carefully on its bank, Aiden cupped his hands together and silently slurped, only pausing as he thought he saw her visage dancing on the water's surface.

Morgan O'keefe. His heart beat a little faster as he silently whispered her name. That frail flower who would stand out amongst a bouquet of roses. He remembered her smiling bravely at him as he began this trek. Meeting him behind her father's house where they stole one last precious moment together. The morning sun cleverly painted the auburn tresses as he cupped her face in both hands and locked his mouth against her soft pressing lips. She had clasped her hands over his broad shoulders and he could still feel her firm breasts pressing into his large chest as his arms ensnared her small waist. Their hips started grinding against each other and Aiden remembered being somewhat ...

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