Gaven
Fern has slept beside me for two nights.
The realization settles slowly, like something I'm afraid to name too loudly because if I do, it will make it real. It will sound too honest.
Two full nights where I woke to the sound of her breathing instead of the echo of my own thoughts. Two nights where Riddick didn't pace or snarl or demand. He only curled inward, satisfied in a way I'd never felt before.
The moon is waning now. I can feel it loosening its grip, the sharp edge of instinct dulling into something quieter. Something that doesn't burn but lingers.
Fern shifts beside me again, pressing closer without waking. Her hand finds my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like it's the most natural thing in the world. She sighs softly and settles, utterly
