There was something to be said about waking up in the greenhouses. As a selkie, Meriwa had enough blubber that she was never cold, not exactly, but living in a lair carved out of the pack ice didn’t facilitate a great deal of true warmth. Body heat, expelled air, and ambient warmth perhaps.
But not the bone-deep, liquifying kind that she awoke to now.
Stretching long and slow under her heap of blankets, Meriwa kept her eyes closed just a little longer. The sun lay over her face, gentle as a lover. She could hear a few birds singing in the distance and she was surrounded by the sweet, musky scent of the earth and new life.
The glasshouses captured the heat from the sun, condensing it manifold times until it was a humid lick against her exposed. That under the blankets was covered in a
