When you had begun to live with Muriel, his struggles in some ways became your own. Not to say that he wasn't a competent, incredibly strong man, but even the strongest men can have old wounds that, while not physical, are clear as day burned into their psyche. For Muri, those manifested as night terrors.

Ones that no matter your presence by his side at night, were ones he'd scarcely manage to avoid.

You're startled from your sleep by what sounds like a mix of a choked yell and a sob that fills the cool air of the hut. When you light the bedside candle, you find Muriel's figure hunched over in your shared bed, fingers tangled into his unkempt raven hair, his breathing wobbly. Inanna, bless her heart, hops up onto the bed and pushes her snout into his lap; presumably trying to help soothe him.