Sabrae collapsed onto Coren, her small, slender body sprawled along his hard muscular form, lying motionless except for the heaving of their chests as they gasped for breath. Bathed in sweat and exhausted, he barely had the strength left to smile, but grinned like never before as he strained to lift his head and meet her gaze, while she craned her neck to look into his face, with a smile to match his turning her lips. Too short of breath to speak, they simply stared into each other’s eyes and had no need for words. Drained of strength from rescuing her, as well as the wildest sexual encounter of his life, the effort of hold his head up was too much for him and he let it fall back onto the bed, blissfully surrendering to sleep almost instantly, while she laid her head against his chest, losing the battle with her own exhaustion and falling into reverie as her ruby eyes glassed over, half closed, but seeing a place far darker than the cabin around her. Something woke Coren form a deep sleep, his eyes fluttered open and immediately sought the drow beauty he barely know, but just the thought of stirred his loins. She was still sprawled on top of him, her head resting on his chest, but she squirmed uneasily, breathing in short gasps while her head rocking back and forth and her expression was one of fear and pain. He knew other elves, some well enough to have seen them in reverie, but they were always peaceful, even serene, as they relived the events of their lives more vividly they any human memory. Suddenly she shot bolt upright and retreated away from him, cowering like a cornered animal, her eyes darting about the fire lit cabin as if shocked to find herself there with an expression of pure terror twisting her beautiful features. Her eyes quickly settled on him, and for an instant she didn’t seem to recognize him, but then the panic drained from her face. Her expression softened to one of relief as she crawled back beside him, laying herself down against him and lowering her lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. “Are you alright?” he asked with genuine concern, something she hardly remembered since she hadn’t heard it in anyone’s voice since she was a child. Even though he barely knew her, he felt a connection to the clearly troubled, but stunningly beautiful, young drow that went much deeper than just the physical act they had shared. “Do you know of the reverie?” she questioned in return, her melancholy tone heavy with remembered misery, as she pillowed her head on his chest and melted welcomingly into the embrace of his strong arms, her racing heart beginning to slow. “Yes,” he answered softly, stroking her silken hair comfortingly, “but I thought elves found joy in reliving the moments of their lives.” “That all depends on the moment… and the life,” she sighed regretfully. She couldn’t imagine what joyful events other elves relived in reverie, certain that those of drow were far darker than their surface kin. Even the first few decades of her life, before the massacre of her family, held few moments of real joy and the century since was nothing but an endless nightmare of hunger, fear, pain and loneliness. Then she raised her head to look into his eyes, as coy smile turned her lips, her eyes sparkling with a capricious gleam, and cooed; “I’ve had few moments in my life that I want to relive… until now!”