“We’re okay, Berry.” I waved at them reassuringly, shocked the little florin had slept so long, and especially thankful they hadn’t awoken during Guruk’s and my more, ahem,spiritedactivities.
They chittered once and tucked their nose back under their tails.
Guruk caught my eye, and we shared the brief, helpless smile of two people who had been quietly outmaneuvered by a florin and accepted it.
“Tomorrow,” I said, stretching out on the blanket and watching the first pale stars appear. I stifled a small yawn. “Next is the market right? How far?”
Guruk laid beside me. His body heat a blessed warmth as the sun set. “A few hours, if the path is clear.”
I nodded. My notebook was in my bag. For once I didn’t reach for it. Some things didn't need to be written down. Some things were better left exactly as they were, warm and unhurried, the steam still rising off the pool in the darkening air, Guruk solid beside me, Berry snoring softly on their rock, the spring holding all of it quietly in both hands.
I pressed the memory flat in my mind like a wildflower between pages.
Then I closed my eyes and let the night come.
6
The Crossroads Market
Guruk
I woke to the scent of jasmine.
The sweet aroma of my mate, close and tender, reached me before anything else did. Before the birdsong, before the morning breeze on my face, before the gurgle of the spring’s overflow channel threading its patient way downhill. Just her. It was my favorite way to start the day. Although I had begun many days this way now, the privilege of it had not once felt ordinary.
Sammy slept beside me on her back, one arm flung above her head in the unguarded manner she had when she felt safe. Her brown hair spread across the folded blanket beneath her, catching the early light in golden threads. The worry that lived in the lines of her face during waking hours was now gone. She looked rested at last, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since before we left the village. The peace of Syrena Spring, or perhaps simply the unburdening of the conversation we had shared in the water, kept her brow in repose. Whatever the cause, I was grateful for it.
I did not wake her.
I lay there a while longer, listening to the forest settle into morning, watching the light shift through the canopy in slow degrees. Berry was already awake. I could hear the soft pat of their paws on the flat rock nearby, their small morning routine of stretching each tail in sequence before shaking out their ears.
The fire had burned to coals overnight. I rebuilt it quietly, setting water to heat without clanging the pot.
“I’m awake,” Sammy said, without opening her eyes.
I continued with the morning tea. “You are not.”
“I am.” She pulled the blanket edge over her chin. “I’m just also still horizontal.”
“That is called sleeping.”
“It’s calledresting with awareness.” She cracked one eye open, found me crouched over the fire, and closed it again. She sniffed the air. “Is there tea?”
The water boiled. “There will be soon.”
A small, satisfied sound. Then, after a moment, she added, “Fine. It was a good plan.”
I glanced over at her. She still had her eyes closed, but her mouth had curved into the smile she used when she was conceding a point and finding it mildly annoying. I had cataloged every version of that smile over the past year. Not quite the same method my little human used to catalog our world, but more so committing each moment with my mate to memory.
This smile was one of my favorites.
“I know,” I said.
She huffed. “You’re insufferable.”
“I am an excellent planner.”
Sammy pulled the blanket over her face entirely.
