Noah hummed in agreement to Elann’s statement. It was a night that was the picture of what he believed to be beautiful.  Though they were looking at the sky, he could see the darkened branches above and before them. They swayed in the gentle wind that blew occasionally and bats came to obscure the moon. He could tell by their shape, their flying movements, what they were. The hooting of an owl in the distance told him that a rodent would be taking its last breaths soon. The world, the wild, was in perfect order, or disorder depending on who looked at it. To him, though, the wild was how it was supposed to be.

Noah held Elann, his pain dully into an ache since he wasn’t moving in his hold of her. His head above hers, he could smell her hair and how it was swept in the smells of his wild. He was glad to have the lightness of her rose powder gone, though he wouldn’t say. It was a natural smelling scent to some degree, he knew, yet it wasn’t hers and so it was off-putting in the slightest way. That said, he wasn’t utterly against her dousing herself in any smell she liked, so long as she didn’t lose the first few scents he smelled on her person upon their first few days as acquaintances, he would be alright.

He contently remained until Elann got too cold, his produced heat inefficient in warming her against the consistently dropping temperatures as the night waned. Another dosage of the tea was given to him and he was soon asleep as well, with her on the pallet on the floor of the wagon. He didn’t wake until early morning crept in, the sun still yet to make its appearance but the birds were chirping to announce its soon to be arrival. Noah woke to that chirping, listening to the morning chatter his avian friends brought to the once quiet air, when night turned to twilight.

Aimee was curled further beneath the blanket, her tail sticking out, but that was all he could see; she was a lump under the blanket Elann had draped over her last night. He was warm under the blanket and the medicine still lingered in his system, dulling some of the ache that the usual morning brought. His rib weren’t on fire that morning, and he was thankful for that, knowing when it came to stretching he would really be awake. As if provoked, his morning stretch came, pulling at his body as he fought to keep some control over how far his limbs reached under the blanket. He groaned, both in pleasure and pain as the stretch progressed. It retreated, letting him lie limply there until someone woke up.