Morning arrives quietly. Too quietly. For a moment, I don’t move.
Willow is still in my arms, curled into my chest as if the night never happened. Pale light spills through the curtains, brushing over her face, catching in the faint tear tracks she hadn’t known were still there when she fell asleep.
She looks younger like this. Smaller. Vulnerable in a way she would hate if she knew I was thinking it.
My fingers hover just above the bandage on her forearm.
White cloth against skin that should never have known self-inflicted pain.
The image from yesterday flashes again... Her kneeling in the clearing. Blood. So much blood that it was glaring. The emptiness in her eyes. My stomach twists violently.
I tighten my hold on her before I can stop myself. She stirs at the movement, breath hit
