This is the final contest entry, from none other than the very lovely, very wonderful, very awesome Liz_Danly. I hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I did. It's certainly well-done, as are all of Lizzie's works.

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"How much farther?"

"Not much, lass."

"My feet hurt."

"I know, lass. You've said so at least three times in the past minute."

"Can't we go home?"

"Just a few more feet, lass, I promise. Then we can turn back and head home."

Femke sighed in relief. "Finally."

Why Brynjolf had thought it a good idea to go on a walk at nine-thirty in the evening, she didn't know. Femke only knew that she was now regretting her agreement to the notion. Her feet weren't entirely pleased, either.

Bryn had led them deep into the trees. They'd come across at least two bandit hideouts without meaning to.

"When am I going to stop agreeing to these silly ideas of yours?" Femke wondered aloud.

Bryn chuckled. "Probably never. That's why you married me, lass."

Femke sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She was infatuated with his curiosity.

"Through here," said Brynjolf, pointing out a couple of bushes.

"What now?"

He held his finger to his lips.

Femke sighed, shaking her head.

With Bryn holding back a few branches for her, Femke pushed through the bush and into a small clearing.

The trees were tall, tall enough to block out the rest of the forest. The sky was infused with dusty rose and cerulean. A small, rocky pond sat in the center of the clearing, its waters clear and shining. Femke drew her hands through the tall grass as she walked through it, her mouth opened slightly in surprise.

Brynjolf came through after her. He spread his hands. "Well? I thought it was quite, um... romantic."

Femke looked back at him. Shaking her head, she glanced at the color-streaked sky. "It's perfect, honey."

Brynjolf was staring at her, even as she gaped at the scenery. "Yes," he said, "I think it is."