In the dead of the night, when the mice were asleep and the world was still, a quiet disturbance came. The doors to Adeline's hauntingly large room creaked open. A figure tiptoed towards her unmoving figure.
The grey moon was nowhere in sight, a thick fog had covered its bright glimmer. Asher did not need the light to see. Nothing illuminated his path, but he saw everything clearly. A skill that humans could not possess, without great and constant practice.
"Adeline," Asher greeted in a quiet whisper.
Asher stood by the edge of her canopy bed. The sheer curtains were drawn and she resembled a Princess from a fairy tale. Her hands were obediently tucked over her chest. The blankets were drawn up to her collarbone, revealing her delicately pale neck.
Hearing no response from her, Asher bent down. He cupped her ear and whispered, "I have lemon meringue tart."
Nothing. Not even a fidget.
