She leans down to kiss his forehead. "I do not think it would make a great deal of difference, and I would prefer you not need to make an effort, when you are known here as my husband." She does know that feeling, would not wish the discomfort of it on anyone.

Happy with the charcoal lines, she begins to put the woad on his skin. "You are unique, my love." She pauses. "At least, I think you are unique." She sighs. "There was a story, involving a Goddess of the Wood, and a man born with the wings of an owl, who became her lover and husband. My brother has spoken to me of the Winged Folk, but he has only spoken of those with wings of diurnal birds."

"I had thought, thought that it might be a clue as to your own people, your kind. But I have heard the tale only third hand, and the people from whom it came have suffered terribly from dealings with dragons in the past."