The next morning arrived quietly, ushered in by the gentle chorus of birdsong and the warm kiss of sunlight against my back. It should've been peaceful.
Instead, I groaned, shifting under the weight of tangled sheets and a very insistent tug at my hair.
"Stop it, Nox," I mumbled, half-asleep, trying to wave him away. But he didn't stop. The large owl's feathers flapped against my ear, his sharp beak tugging at the strands near my temple like a particularly nagging conscience.
"Master?" Lyall's voice drifted in, calm and steady as always.
I sighed and burrowed deeper into the sheets like a coward hiding from the world.
"Master, the preparations are all done. We can move tomorrow."
I hummed in acknowledgment, but the weight of his words didn't hit me until a few seconds later.
Tomorrow.
