Crow slept soundly through the night. Between the softness of the bed and the warmth of Penelope’s body pressed up against him, he found himself in a deeper slumber than he had managed in years. So, when she stirred in the morning, it took him a while to wake up. He blinked and lifted his head groggily, letting out a long yawn.

“Morning,” he smiled tiredly at Penelope when she greeted him. Noticing that she had moved away from him when she had woken up, he shifted closer, gathering her into his arms and nestling his head against hers. “I could get used to this,” he sighed contentedly and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Though he was still half-asleep, Crow slowly became aware that he had let his guard down completely for the first time since his mother had died. It was a nice feeling, to be so relaxed—to not have to worry about how he was perceived by Penelope. He didn’t need to put up a front with her because she had won his full trust. He could finally just be himself.

As much as he wanted to fall back asleep, he knew they needed to keep moving. After lying next to Penelope for a brief time, he forced himself to break away from her and sit up. He groaned, raising his arms over his head in a long stretch. The motion caused a deep pain in his chest, and he knew he had been bruised. However, he also knew that as sore as he felt, Penelope had to be feeling ten times worse, so he kept his mouth shut about the discomfort.

“Well, I slept great,” Crow said. He turned to her with a sly grin, “I’m ready to steal an archer’s bow today.”