ETAN
Etan rolled over, sleep not quick to fade. But he could feel the weight of her head on his arm and the warmth of her back, and he smiled. Ayleth, his love. He pulled her back into his chest and she sighed. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deep as she stirred.
Then he became aware of the smell of hay, the hard floor beneath his cloak, and—his eyes flew open to find the sky beyond the large hole in the wall painted in pinks, yellows, and pale oranges and he sat up in horror.
Holy shit, it was morning.
Ayleth made a grumbling noise when his arm was pulled out from under her head, but then the clunk of buckets being stacked, and voices calling in the stable below echoed through the loft and her eyes flew open too.
