Margaret couldn't remember when she fell asleep.
When she woke up again, the curtains were filtering through the dim morning light. It was warm in the room, and as she reached down, she felt the slightly soft texture of bat wings. Saint Sebastian was nestled close to her, sleeping soundly; his woolly head was pressed against her neck, his right wing covering the bed while the left one hung askew over the edge.
Harrison was not in the room. Margaret lay with her eyes open for about ten minutes, hearing the sound of the door being pushed open. The sprite came in carrying milk and bread, placing them on the bedside table and nodding to her.
"Morning, you should get up," he said.
With his high ponytail tied back, Margaret caught a whiff of warm wheat as he approached. "I didn't see you last night," she said.
She pulled away Saint Sebastian's bat wing and pressed her temples as she sat up. "Where did you go?"
