There she went, running through the snow, and Alexander just wanted to throttle himself. How could he be so stupid?! Whatever hard-earned trust he'd won with Kella, he had certainly done a great job of shattering it just now, with three simple, damning words: you're a mage.
And Kella, by running, had only confirmed it.
"Kella!" He started after her, but then paused, catching sight of something in the snow: her glove. He stopped only long enough to scoop up the wet article, which was already growing ice crystals, and then he took off after Kella, boots crunching through the snow. God. A storm was supposed to roll in in a day or so, and while the nights hadn't been too cold, it would grow unbearable fast. And to think of Kella, a rogue mage, hunted by soldiers and freezing to death in the snow all because he couldn't keep his damned mouth shut...
"Kella, wait!"
The snow made running harder, but he was taller and his legs were longer--and even after so many years out of the service, Alexander had kept active. It wasn't long before he was gaining on her, and it wasn't long before he overtook her.
And, without thinking, he grabbed onto her and scooped her up out of the snow and into his arms like a bride.