“This is the last one, right?” Spike asked as they guided the ifnan onto the path. He’d lost count of the number of dinners they’d attended after the 14th. Not that he didn’t enjoy them thoroughly, but winter was coming to a quick end. The snow melted faster each day, and the rivers and ponds that Del had promised him were quickly expanding across the countryside.

“It better be. Of course, we probably ought to throw one ourselves—it’s tradition.” Del shuddered at the thought of inviting that many people to their quiet house. “But we’re not going to.”

Zaf and Ruisk cornered Del as soon as the pair arrived at the party. “Del-syralia!” Zaf cried, embracing the dalhari. “When are you and Spike leaving for La’iv?”

Del greeted the orth, as well as a pakra that had joined them. “Next week, unless it turns cold.”

“I’ll come by for the ifnan before then,” Ruisk promised. “Where’s Spike?” He looked around for the human, not seeing the streaked blonde-and-brown hair among the guests.

Del glanced around. “Oh, somewhere, probably near the food.”

Spike was, in fact, near the food. He was being pursued by a two pakra sisters, Muim and Nuim. They kept following him around, giggling and sighing whenever he spoke. “Where are you from? I’ve never heard an accent as…exotic as yours!” Muim said breathily.

The human attempted to extract himself from the girls, looking around frantically for Del. Spike breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the dalhari, as well as Zaf, Ruisk, and another pakra come to his rescue.

“Huip, I don’t think you’ve yet introduced me to your daughters,” Zaf said to the pakra that had accompanied him.

The older pakra glared at his children. “Muim, Nuim, this is Zaf, your kind host, Ruisk, a captain of the holding guard, and Del, tsaol-va of the Saydhe clan, Disiaron house.”

The young women’s eyes widened. They’d scented a dalhari on the human, but never suspected that his lover would be someone of any position. It would not do for them to endanger their family’s relations with a dalhari house by acting improperly with Spike. They smiled, nodding nervously.

The pakra led his daughters away, his scolding carrying over to the remaining group. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how to get rid of them,” Spike said gratefully to Zaf.

The orth laughed. “There aren’t many who would complain.” He looked over at Del. “But I can see why you might.”

“Ruisk and I were discussing how likely it is that we will be able to leave next week,” Del told Spike as she served herself dinner. “He thinks that the warm weather will hold and the waters will have retreated by then."

Spike nodded his agreement. When they’d first gotten to Aver, he had been anxious for winter to end and the paths to clear. Now, however, he wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back, and was afraid that if the witches could find a way, they would force him to go.

“Is something bothering you?” Del asked as they stabled the ifnan later that night.

Spike stored away the tack. “No, just thinking about the journey.”

“It won’t be too hard.” Del led them back to the house, noting how the snows were almost gone around the property. Their lovemaking was furious that night, as though they wanted as much of each other as they could before it all ended.

Both Del and Spike spent most of the next week brooding separately about the same thing. Del feared that Spike would find a way home and would leave her. It had been a risk she took when she got involved with him, but it still bothered her. The human had insinuated himself into her heart and she was loathe to let him go. But it was Spike’s decision, and Del wasn’t sure if the human found their relationship anything more than a diversion.

Spike was similarly worried. He had pretty much decided that he wanted to stay here, but he wondered what Del would say. The human feared that she was with him more for company than something deeper.

•••

“So…” Spike began, staring out over the now-hilly landscape. “Just how long will this leg of the trip take?” They’d been walking for several days, delving deeper into a forest considerably denser than the f’lh-knhavli.

“A week or so, maybe more. It depends on the weather. In a rush?” She glanced over at Spike, who smiled briefly.

“No rush. Just curious. Are we stopping anytime soon?” The sun was down and he was getting tired.

Del sighed. “Soon.”

Indeed, they stopped after few more minutes. Traveling through mountains was slow going; the actual distance to La’iv wasn’t that great, but crossing the near mountain range would take considerable time. At least after they cleared it, the remainder of the trip would be easy.

Spike busied himself with the meal, cooking up some of the cereal grains they’d brought with them. This part of the walk was distinctly reminiscent of his initial trek with Del—long stretches of irritated silence. He chalked it up to mutual stress after being penned up together all winter.

Even though spring had obviously come to the mountains, evenings were still cold. Spike positioned his bedroll closer to the fire, wishing that Del would rejoin him. She’d distanced herself from him soon after they’d begun traveling again.

“Del?” Spike whispered, watching the dalhari carving something out of a short branch she’d picked up along the way.

“What?” She replied, not looking up from her work.

Spike shifted uncomfortably. “I’m probably not going to be able to get back, am I?”

Del sighed. They’d been over this several times. “I’m not a witch, Spike. I can’t really tell you one way or another. It doesn’t seem likely to me, but I’m no expert.”

“It’s just…what will I do here? I don’t have any skills—you’ve already pointed that out, several times.” Spike murmured, watching the fire crackle.

The dalhari blanched. She continued to regret being so sharp with the human. “There are many crafts; I’m sure you’ll find yourself adept at something. No one goes long without something to do.”

The human smiled. “I like it here, you know? At first I hated it, but I don’t now.”

Del cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Spike watched Del shuffle around on her side of the fire. “How long will it stay this cold at night?”

Del looked back at the human. Damn. She’d forgotten, again, just how much more sensitive humans were to temperature. “A while.” Muttering softly to herself, she bundled up her blankets and moved over to Spike. “Shift over.” After a few minutes of maneuvering, she and Spike were curled up together, the human between the dalhari and the dying fire. Spike couldn’t find it in himself to be ashamed of the manipulation.

The next morning Del woke to the still-familiar sensation of another body pressed tightly to hers. She was unwilling to admit it, but she missed sleeping with the human. So much for resolve. Swearing silently, she extracted herself from the blankets and readied them for the next day’s journey.

•••

A pair of loudly chattering birds caught Spike’s attention. He couldn’t help but grin at them, hell, at everything. Del had apparently given up on the idea of separate quarters for the remainder of their trip, particularly since Spike had shown such an interest in finding a place for himself on this world. The human had quickly surmised that Del’s problem was that she was worried that he would leave. He’d pretty well decided not to, although he figured that convincing the dalhari of that might take a little time. Yes, he wanted to stay, but he wanted, in particular, to stay with Del. He had a sneaky feeling that her impromptu claiming of him, as evidenced by the still obvious mark on his face, would stand as an invitation into her house once they reached La’iv.

He was also pleasantly surprised by the change in fellow travelers. They’d started out their journey early in the traveling season, so they hadn’t met anyone early on. Eventually others joined them on the road, and Spike met, for the first time, other dalhari. Now he knew what Del had meant when she described humans as limited in coloring.

Dalhari came in every color. He was sure of it. Spike had, so far, met dalhari with skin hued green, blue, purple, orange, red, black, white, pink, and yellow—and every shade in between imaginable. Hair, of course, to match, or contrast. Apparently dalhari genes were merciful; he’d yet to meet anyone who actually clashed, although jet black skin and sky blue hair took some getting used to. Del just smirked at him as he commented on the coloration of their fellow travelers. Technicolor demons, indeed.

Del watched Spike ogle the other dalhari. It was entertaining, watching the human interact with others of her kind. Having spent half a year with her, he was rather comfortable with the species—too comfortable for some dalhari, who were taken aback by his familiarity with their culture. Most of them attributed it to Del, assuming that the human was either a close member of her house or her mate. She just grinned and waved off their queries, joining them in occasional laughter as Spike’s natural curiosity surfaced and he prodded into their lives. The presence of other dalhari allowed Del to catch up on hold gossip and alleviated the tensions that still popped up occasionally between the human and the dalhari. They still found themselves alone at night, however, as it was dalhari custom for travelers to grant others privacy in the dark.

“Where are we going when we get to La’iv?” Spike asked over dinner one night. They were only two days from the freehold, and they’d avoided this conversation so far.

Del glanced at the human. “Home first. The forge can wait a couple of days.” The truth was, with her dragging Spike home with her, the forge might not see her for a while. Her father would be very, very interested in Spike…if she let him near the human. “I, for one, want a long, warm bath and a ‘home-cooked’ meal,” She added, using Spike’s terminology.

“Shit. Home cooked? Maybe I’ll stick to traveling rations,” He replied, laughing. Del’s idea of good food would probably put him in the hospital.

“Very funny, human.” Del reached over, whapping Spike gently on the head. They finished dinner, laughing at Spike’s continued moaning about the state of dalhari food.

•••

“Fuck me!” Spike swore, staring down at the freehold. They’d just crested a hill, allowing them the first view of the city. Del had warned him that they were nearing it, although Spike had figured that out by the dramatically increased traffic and higher density of housing and farms. Still, nothing had prepared him for what he saw.

He’d seen f’lh and orth holds, which were easily distinguishable by their architecture—f’lh preferred stocky, short buildings constructed of heavy wood, while orth built much taller square holds out of the local stone. Spike had also seen many small villages, which seemed similar regardless of dominant species. The freehold in front of him, however, was very much unlike what he’d seen previously.

Apparently building stone was not in short supply. The entire city seemed to be constructed of shimmery, carved rock. The buildings swept, curving, behind high, elegant walls. Spike was reminded of fantasy drawings such as the ones Xander had kept in his comic books. The architecture was reminiscent of the great cathedrals he had visited in Europe, with spires reaching into the heavens, stained glass windows everywhere. The place was, for lack of a better term, a flight of fancy.

Spike stepped off the road and out of the way of passing traffic. The freehold, he though, fit its inhabitants, much as the past cities he’d visited had fit theirs. Orth holds were tall and stocky, f’lh smaller and crafty. Dalhari holds, then, would appeal to the colorful, sometimes whimsical species.

“Come on,” Del snorted, pulling Spike along. Seeing her home for the first time in so long had only increased her urgency to return, and Spike could ogle to his heart’s content later. The human followed, still gazing slack-jawed at the city. He barely paused to wonder why the guards at the outer wall didn’t even stop him and Del as they passed.

Del hurried through the curving, twisting streets, not even bothering to describe where they were to her human companion. She was home! The dalhari was forced to stop when they emerged from one of the main corridors onto a large green. Spike stopped suddenly, staring up at the palatial building facing him.

Spike peered up at the greenish-colored building. The stone was sparkling in the midmorning sunlight, casting random spots of color on the verdant background. The blotches moved and wavered, flitting here and there. Studying them more closely, he saw that they were dalhari, perched on the building’s walls. Everywhere there was a suitable surface, it seemed, there was a winged creature lounging. Spike blinked, and then looked again. Glancing around the green, he noticed that dalhari certainly seemed to prefer resting off the ground. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but nearly all the buildings were decorated with whorls, spires, platforms, and the like, all of which made suitable perches for dalhari. It appeared to be an appropriate place for the public to reside, on the outside of buildings. Trees, too, if the contents of the green were to be believed. Actually, Spike didn’t see very many dalhari lounging around on or near the ground—there were benches and seats on the green, but they were mostly empty.

“Come on, Spike. We’re almost there.” Del urged the human along, taking the most direct path around the green.

“What’s that?” Spike asked, pointing at the green building that had caught his attention.

Del glanced up. “That’s part of the University. The library, to be exact.” Spike nodded, following the dalhari away from the green.

“Didn’t know there was such a beast around here. Did you go?” Spike queried.

“Yeah, well, actually not that one in particular, but a smaller place where I grew up.” Del replied. “You can go back and look around later, ok?”

After several more turns and twists through the busy streets of La’iv, Spike found himself in a large, open courtyard. Dalhari milled around, busying themselves in the shops that lined it. “Where are we?”

Del smiled, visibly relaxing. “Home. Well, almost home. This is my House’s public market.” The dalhari quickly led Spike through a tall, arched entranceway that led into a dim corridor. A bright blue dalhari shouted in greeting, running forward to swing Del around in a tight hug.

“Del-syralia!” Spike caught and understood only Del’s name before the conversation began in earnest, flowing more quickly than he was capable of understanding. He caught a word here and there, but his limited skills in dalhari failed him.

Del grinned widely as her cousin flooded her with questions. Vaishi was young, enthusiastic, and apparently new to the House guard, if his excited, stream-of-consciousness ramblings could be believed. “Vaishi…” Del began. The electric blue, black-haired young man abruptly quieted.

“Vaishi, it’s good to be home,” Del said, in the trade language. Vaishi blinked, and then glanced at Spike. His eyes widened when he saw the mark on Spike’s face, but he quickly recovered and switched to the human’s language.

“Welcome back, Del. You were missed. We worried when you didn’t make it back before winter.” The young guard ushered them back toward the wall, clearing the walkway.

“It was an interesting trip, to say the least,” Del began, proceeding to introduce Spike and give a glossed-over description of their travels. Spike found the youth very entertaining, particularly his expressive face, which easily reflected his surprise and excitement at their adventures. After a few minutes, however, Del excused them, begging exhaustion and the need to visit the elders.