Though its typically uncustomary for me to turn in early…I return to my sanctuary, my cave/ hole just after twilight. But those thick, granite walls have finally moved past the point of uncomfortably constraining…now, they flat out refuse me. No matter how I try to slither in, rear-first, front-first. It didn't matter. Sheathed wings and my swelling (over indulged) abdomen simply wouldn't squeeze past that narrow opening. The dark reality of my appearance in previous weeks had to have been appalling compared to now. Groggy (and genuinely frustrated,) I resentfully (without seeing any other choice) concede to sleep upon the threshold. Luckily, the night is relatively warm and the breeze is mild. Mini me arches her brow and gestures to the forest beyond my cliffside hovel…but our shrinking courage doesn’t rise to the challenge of seeking out other forms of shelter in the pitch black.

Besides, I reasoned to that braver part of myself, Noah would come here to find me…

In the morning…

A surge of uncommon thrill drags itself over my worn-out expression...memories cycle backwards, revisiting our conversation. It took considerable riddling and heaps of charades…but the effort is rewarded with an assumption that he wants us to leave; at dawn. Abandon the safety of our new habitat to explore the unguarded wilderness. Anxiety is quick to snag a foothold -  reawakening drowned fear until it gnawed at my intrigue and youthful sense of adventure.

Yet…despite the fear, there was a nagging guilt echoing the terms of my debt which had brought us together to begin with. How could I not agree to travel with a man who’d laid his life on the line? Our fates had become tethered (in whatever complicity) from the moment he’d chosen to stand before my demon and won. Though, my agreement (however shrinking) was worth the risk to witness that spark of laughter and delight waking and etching itself into every stunning corner.

My mulling, defiant mind sits awake; overwhelmed internally with anxious, slightly nauseous emotions for the coming day...I forget to dread properly on the nighttime chorus of shadows and cries. As the night drags on, my subconscious grows more irritable; eventually, she tosses out a disapproving look and slides to the ground, ‘worry wort, morning isn’t far off!’

Irises glance upward…but the sky doesn't appear any more lite than it was when I came home…
----

"Nora!"

The sudden cry of my name jerks me into awareness! Sealed eyelids fly apart to behold an encasement of pale shadows…dank, dusty smelling corridors on all visible sides. While my half-awake brain stumbles onto the scene and sorts the confusion. I pull my head backwards, craning sideways to find my guardsman…his marbled fur and ivory hair closing in from the edge. Bewilderment sheds itself for something warmer, something…wet. The pale side of my face feels…damp. A quick brush against my outstretched foreleg rubs away some of the dirt and assures me that it wasn’t blood.

There isn't time to mull over how I'd ended up with my head in the shallow den...nor why I'm laying on the ground.

Twisting urgently, I gracelessly pull myself from that gaping hole; harnessing all the dexterity of a wobbly filly. Once risen and settled (though swaying groggily)...these irises drift, sampling his lighthearted, alert expression... scanning his untiring appearance...his majesty. "Hi," sounding far more tender than intended, but only because the word is spoken on the whisper of an exhale.

Whoa... he's here and very much...awake.

A light shiver dances from snout to hoof -- feathers loosen, shaking the dust from their mist. Sounding far less shell shocked after a moment of sharp blinking, I utter on the next breath, "Bonjour monsieur," while those effects of dreariness fade, my resolves allows a meek smile to etch itself gently into the crease of either corner. We've been sharing language with each other for many weeks. His tongue (the simple notes) are becoming more familiar and advanced. My subconscious shrugs as only a figurative creature can, we both agreed that the more I heard and studied his tongue...the more of a preference arose.