Her head rested on his shoulder, thick hair unbound and cascading over his bare chest. Its softness and familiarity comforted him. He held her, lying on the comfortable bed, and felt his love’s easy breathing as she slept. A light blanket covered them and he pulled it to better protect her, just incase she were to become cold during the night.

Roxton looked out her undraped window, up at the stars as they winked at him.

How was it, he wondered, that the right man and the right woman met, loved and existed in the right place at the right time? What was the likelihood? Surely, there was something more to all this. Perhaps there was a greater power out there, a love-god of sorts, making sure they would never be permanently parted ever again.

Roxton stroked her smooth shoulder and nearly chortled aloud. He had become so sentimental and poetic since he‘d met Marguerite. He found himself recalling long forgotten romantic poems he had learned while still in school. 

Yet, he was also stronger. There were so many things Roxton could face if only Marguerite remained by his side. To think, she worried about him becoming bored with her … when he had always wondered if the opposite might happen.

When he wasn't adventuring was he interesting?

'Two halves of one whole.' something whispered in Roxton's ear, recalling an ancient Greek story about soul mates. It was not Marguerite who spoke to him for she still slept.

But still he wondered …

“Keep your memories, Love.” Roxton whispered into his lady's ear, “Together, we will make many, many more.”

And they would look back on them, when they became old and gray, unable to go on any further adventures into the unknown, and laugh at their fears.

***

Life moved on in The Lost World.

THE END.

Written by Beckers 

Dec. 2005