By the third day, Ivy's patience thinned.
He wasn't used to this kind of female. Strong, controlled, distant. Every other female in the burrows would melt under a glance or a whisper. Bloom didn't even blink.
He tried smiling at her. Teasing her. Helping her gather kindling and brushing snow off her boots. Nothing worked.
When they crossed a shallow icy river, he even slipped on purpose, hoping she'd catch him. She did, but with the same ease she'd have catching a falling branch.
"Watch your step." She said flatly, letting him go immediately after.
His cheeks burned hotter than the winter sun. Still, beneath the embarrassment, a spark grew.
He wanted to make her flustered. To break that perfect composure. But each night ended the same way: him pretending to sleep, sneaking glances as she meditated quietly by the fire, her breath even and calm, her aura unreadable.
She wasn't resisting his charm. She was above it.
