25
Adrial
The sun warmed the graying dawn. Their fire had settled to embers hours before, but Adrial didn’t dare move to rekindle the flames.
Somehow in the night, Ena had drawn Adrial’s arm over her shoulder like a blanket, nestling into his warmth. His arm gently rose and fell with each breath Ena took. Her hair splayed out behind her, touching Adrial’s cheek.
There was comfort in the closeness, in feeling another person sleep. Adrial couldn’t bear the thought of missing a breath.
He stayed frozen as the sky pinked, wishing there were some kind of magic in Ilbrea that would make the night last just a little longer.
A raven flew overhead, his cawing carrying over the rumble of the waterfall.
“Are you awake, scribe?” Ena asked.
“Yes.” Adrial waited for her to toss his arm aside or
