The remnants of the festival scatter itself about the capital as the residents leave the clean-up for the next day. The morning after is quiet and slow. The freshly fallen snow rests on top of the grass and road just as pristine as untouched sand.
"You really did something stupid, huh?" Nakir asks, lightly punching Michael's shoulder.
"And I would do it again to save my daughter," Michael sneers, groaning as he tries to sit up.
Nakir supports Michael's back while helping him scoot backward against the headboard of his bed. Nakir adjusts the blanket so that Michael is still warm since the heated floor isn't at its warmest temperature.
"You are the first line of defense when someone gets hurt," Nakir reminds while handing Michael a glass of warm milk. "I mean, I get to come by when you get hurt, but still, you should pay more attention to yourself."
"Nakir, do you and Aurora have a child yet?"
