Prophecy, Child of Earth by Elizabeth Haydon

suggestive.
    'Well," she said, bending over and picking up more fallen branches, "I think it can be arranged. After I get the fire going I'll hunt around and see if I can find you some small rodents for supper." She went about her gathering chore, and unconsciously began to whistle. A moment later Ashe recognized the tune. It was a hymn to the ancient harvest goddess, a song from the old land.
    She was Cymrian; he was virtually certain of it. Ashe decided to try something else. He thought about the languages she would have used in the old world if she really was Cymrian, but his knowledge of Ancient Lirin was limited. He decided to try one comment in the archaic Lirin tongue first, then one in Old Cymrian. He waited until he could see her face on the other side of the fire.
    'You know, Rhapsody, I find you extremely attractive," he said in the dead language Lirin language, then shifted into the tongue of the Cymrians. "I really love to watch you bend over." She gave him a strange look, but she said nothing, and the dragon did not sense any blood rise to her face in a blush. The furrow in her brow seemed more extreme at his first comment than his second; perhaps she had lived in a Lirin village, or a meadow longhouse, where the only language spoken was the Lirin tongue. He tried again.
    'And you have the most incredible backside," he said, waiting to see the reaction. She turned to gather more peat, and fed it to the fire, seeming to grow annoyed.
    'I don't understand you," she said, glaring at him through the smoke. "Please stop babbling at me." She heard him sigh as he returned to unpacking the utensils, waiting until his back was turned to allow the smile to take over her face. Tahn, Rhapsody, evet mama hidion —Listen without rancor, Rhapsody, I think you are a beautiful magnet. Abria, jirist kyst ovetis bee —I love to watch you squat. Kwelster evet re marya —you have the most beautiful muffins. It was all she could do to keep from choking with laughter. While his Old Cymrian was not too far off, his knowledge of Ancient Lirin was even more limited than he knew. And she spoke the truth, as always. She didn't understand him at all.
    had taken to sitting shorter, more frequent watches, mostly because of her nightmares. After an hour or so of deep sleep, Rhapsody would invariably begin to toss and turn, muttering under her breath, sometimes crying, sometimes gasping as she woke in shock. Ashe wished he could comfort her when these dreams occurred, and thought often about waking her gently to save her from them, but he knew that she was probably prescient. If she was seeing visions of the Future it might be important to allow her to do so, no matter what it cost her. So he sat in frustrated sorrow and watched her suffer through the nights, sleeping lightly, to wake, trembling.
    They spoke little during the day. It was the evening that eased the tensions and facilitated conversation. Darkness cloaked the forest; its sounds increased, along with the crackling of the fire and the whispering of the wind in the trees, so difficult to hear in the daylight. By day words seemed as though they were held up to the light, and so were used very little. The night hid them, made them safer, and so it was then Rhapsody and Ashe were able to exchange them.
    They were but a few days out from their destination. Ashe had said they would make Elynsynos's lair by week's end. There was still a wide river to cross, and many more leagues to travel, but they were within reach.
    There was a loneliness in the air that night. They had been walking in the forest so long that it was hard to recall when they were not surrounded by trees.
    Rhapsody's sunset devotions seemed to be swallowed by the forest canopy, as if the songs themselves were suddenly too heavy to soar to the stars. She sat now on the rise of a small forest hill, watching those stars appear in the twilight one by one, to duck again behind the passing clouds that swallowed them