Crave ✔

The biting Northern wind whipped Emrie's cloak around her, a meager defense against the mountain's chill. Beside her, Mae groaned, huddled low under the sparse bush, her face a mask of nervous tension.

"We shouldn't be here," Mae whispered, her voice trembling.

Emrie shushed her, eyes fixed on the distant, formidable silhouette of the King's castle, barely visible above the treeline. Their audacious journey into forbidden territory had brought them to this precipice. A single, fleeting glimpse of the rumored-to-be-beautiful King of the North was all she craved, a need that gnawed at her, overshadowing all fear.

"This is the only way, Mae," Emrie murmured, the words feeling both defiant and desperate. "He's not going to pay a peaceful visit to the village anytime soon."

Their earlier encounter with the border patrol, a close call that still sent shivers down Emrie's spine, was a stark reminder of the peril they were in. But even that couldn't deter her. This wasn't just curiosity; it was an inexplicable pull, a deep-seated craving that had driven her far from the safety of home. The thought of turning back now felt impossible.

As the afternoon wore on, the wait for nightfall stretched, each minute tightening the knot of anxiety in Emrie's stomach. She knew the risks, knew the horrifying tales of what happened to trespassers. But the 'need' remained, a quiet, insistent hum in her mind.