In her dark and shapeless dreams, Kagome floated along within a cloud. Her body dispersed like vapor. She became edgeless, indistinct. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was here, and she was gone. Is this what it feels like, she wondered distantly, to no longer exist? She imagined her pure soul, cut loose from its

Kagome found her still-damp yukata hanging in the branch of a nearby tree. Snatching it down, she stalked toward the stream that lay at the edge of the abandoned village. Her jaw clenched as Sesshoumaru’s last words to her replayed in her head. What he could have meant by them filled her with furious suspicion.

Back inside the hut, Kagome stripped off her ruined yukata, balled it up and pitched it angrily into the hearth. As the flames licked at the pretty floral fabric, she shrugged into a spare robe with a scowl. The sleeping yukata was plain and rather skimpy, but the idea of wearing her miko attire under

Sesshoumaru knelt down. His claws curved firmly around her nape. “No more outbursts.” Kagome nodded. Releasing his hakama, she latched to the front of his haori instead. Sesshoumaru considered her a moment longer, before gathering her to him, blanket and all. Blinking her watery eyes to clear them, Kagome relaxed in his hold. Her panic

In the soft darkness of early morning, Kagome stirred awake. The warm, solid body beneath hers shifted. Sliding out of her, Sesshoumaru started to rise. With a small, sleepy sound of protest, Kagome snagged at his hair. Detaching her tangled fingers from him, he draped her in his voluminous fur and pressed her back down