I woke to the smell of something warm and herbal, and the sound of Meymey humming.
The tune was an old one– something she hummed when Colby fell asleep, low and meandering, like a stream finding its way through stones. I recognized it before I recognized where I was.
The omega quarters. Meymey's corner of it, judging by the familiar roughness of her particular blankets and the faint lavender she kept in a pouch by her pillow.
My body ached in a way that was entirely new. Not the sharp ache of injury or the dull ache of overwork– this was deeper, as if something fundamental had been wrung out of me and was only now beginning to refill. Seren stirred weakly, a faint pulse of warmth that said present but not much more.
"You've been out since yesterday," Meymey said, not
