The Stream
When they came to the stream, Ilona helped Mason ease his arm out of its sling long enough to pull off his shirt. Ilona had insisted his shirt and boots were the most clothing he removed while so near the pirate's camp. Mason had pretended to be hurt by this but agreed, giving Ilona a wink.
The stream wasn't very deep, the water only coming up to their thighs, but that was good enough for Mason. He eased himself down until the water washed over his shoulders. He leaned his head back and let out a long, slow purr of please when he felt the water flow through his hair.
"Look, your hair is turning golden again," Ilona teased, "I've never seen it so filthy."
"Neither have I," Mason chuckled, keeping his injured arm against his chest but using the other to keep himself from sinking under. Ilona had reminded him he had the stitches in his cheek and needed to keep them from getting wet.