Having been asleep, Noah hadn’t felt the winds or heard Zulrav’s whispers on them. He was ignorant to the breezes’ power since whatever came inside the wagon was a tapered off and whisper-less version of what was felt outside. Whether or not they were beckoning the Stormwarden out to play with them and to have them lift him in the air near effortlessly, he didn’t wish to be outside with them. If it was urgent, if the Stormwarden was truly needed, the gusts wouldn’t have been kept at bay by what was thin canvas in comparison to what Zulrav could conjure with His power.


Noah’s sleeps were dreamless, he constantly fluttered in and out of them as the hours waned on, but he didn’t rise as he only sought more sleep in order to pass the day. It seemed his seeking was mostly in vain though, as night had yet to come even though it felt as if he had been in and out for more than an afternoon. From what light strewn in from the back of the wagon he could tell it was around midday, the sun beaming down through what was a cloudless sky. Reaching out, the tiniest fragment of his god couldn’t be felt. The absence of Zulrav in fullness didn’t mean the winds were without words and moods though, all the Stormwarden had to do was grace them with his presence in order to ascertain how they felt and what they sought after, if anything at all.


Noah heard Elann’s weighted sigh, watching her recoil to take the breath in order to expel it. He wondered what was on her mind, only discerning thoughtfulness from her face without reaching into their bond. He wished he could read her mind some of time, but not knowing if her relatively gentle way with words was hiding what she truly thought inside was frightening to him. She brushed her hair and drifted to the back of the wagon in order to strip the bristles of shedded hair and caught blades of grass. He observed her in relatively silence, the only noises coming from him being his breathing and any shifting he would have to do in order to see her clearly with his eyes.


After she returned the brush to its place, she grabbed the beginnings of one of her weaving projects and sat. He continued to peek at her while she started it, mostly caught up in the motions of her hands, as he always was whenever she worked on something in front of him. It was clear to him he wasn’t getting back to sleep, not with her there and being distracting, though he didn’t loathe her for it. After a while he finally rolled onto his back, moving the blanket off of him in the same motion before sitting up with his back to her. He stretched and rubbed his face again, wiping any residual sleep from his eyes before stretching, his hands over his head and his back arching as much as it would against the wound. There was pain of course, and he felt sorry Elann had to deal with it as well, albeit in a dulled out form depending on how attentive to him and the bond she was. He had learned to block out the pain she communicated down their bond, having no choice to do anything but since she experienced a relatively routine pain every three weeks or so.


Her monthly aches were utterly foreign to him when they first started. He never had to deal with it in Caesarion because the former bondmate was man. They were something he was used to by now though, one thing amongst others that he accepted as a part of Elann and their once-new bond.


Noah stood all the way up, his body draped in near nothing but the underwear covering his midsection. He couldn’t decide if he preferred underwear or shorts more, the former allowing him to be closest to nude but also being less presentable in public than the latter. It was an idle thought, the Kelvic moving to the trunk in order to retrieve his journal and pencil. He set them atop the trunk after closing it again, letting them stay there while he went to the corner in order to pour himself a cup of water. He took his time in drinking it, turning to face Elann and survey the premises and then watch the horses behind their wagon trot on and on at the behest of the driver. When the cup was emptied he set it back down on the floor with the few others and the pitcher containing their family’s water. He retook his journal and pencil and moved back to the bed, leaving it unkempt as he sat down in the spot he once lay on in order to draw, resting the journal on his knee. He drew for as long as Elann worked, though none of the draws were of her or seemingly related to her.

The sadness he once felt had all but fled, replaced by contentment since he was existing quietly with Elann. If the situation were not as tense as it seemed to be, he would be more than content. Since it wasn’t, content was as much as he could be in the moment. Noah drew upon his font of patience, deciding to use drawing as a way to pass the time instead of sleeping, something perhaps less self-destructive than wasting away. He was fairly certain he didn’t want to fly anymore, not without Elann’s witnessing and urging. He had been convinced to fly before by Aimee, partly because he wanted to aid in the hunting party. The reason wasn’t entirely selfish either, he did want to help the others in the caravan. He could do so by doing what he did best, using the skies to an advantage. He wasn’t allowed to take down bigger prey like he would have liked, but his sights and warnings and little tactics were invaluable to the hunters after Aimee explained to them what to look for in Noah’s signs made in the sky.