Rowan didn't actually mean to fall asleep again, despite the indifference he'd piled on when he told Wren he was going to do exactly that.
But once he was clean and warm, basking on his bed in the glow of Wren's fire, what was meant to be him merely indifferently resting his eyes for a few minutes turned into him sleeping all the way through until what he could only assume was the next morning.
He probably would have slept even longer if it weren't for the dream-song that manifested as a whimper on his lips.
Rowan sat up, his throat tight with longing. The robe that had been draped over him in place of the blankets that he'd fallen asleep on slid down his body. His eyes immediately went to the chair in the corner, but Wren wasn't there.
The wordless melody that he'd created in his sleep lingered in his ears. His heart reached for it, aching to catch it and make it real, but it vanished, leaving only the emptiness behind.
