The hut was cramped, but warm. The fire outside cast a soft glow through the gaps in the bark roof, and the faint scent of sap and smoke hung in the air.
Inside, Oliver spread the boar hide bedding with a sigh. "Not the softest," he muttered, patting it.
Isolde stretched languidly beside him, arms over her head, her chest pushing against her snug battle garb. "It'll do. Better than the ground."
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the crackling fire and their own breathing. Then Isolde stood.
Without a word, she reached down and began unfastening her clothes.
Oliver froze. "Wh-what are you doing?!"
"W-What the hell are you doing?!" Oliver blurted, face instantly red.
"What?" she tilted her head innocently, as though she hadn't just stripped half-naked in front of him. "It's not like you haven't seen me naked already, is it? Why so flustered now?"
"T-That time was… different!" Oliver stammered. "Circumstances were different! Now it's—now it's just—!"
