You entangled yourself deeper into the thin, canvas-y feeling blanket. Whenever you breathed in you were reminded that you weren’t sprawled out on your own bed, Charles’ scent filling your senses. It had been five days since he left to go on a hunting trip, one that was supposed to last only three days. Worry plagued you like a horde of parasitic weeds overtaking a garden, snaking around your limbs and suffocating you. It was all-consuming, especially at night. That was why you were in his bed, sniffling yourself to sleep with his blanket pressed up against your wet face.

You were half asleep when the distant sound of hooves against dirt entered your earshot. With your brain all jumbled and sleepy, you didn’t recognize the significance. You heard far-off rustling, though in reality it wasn’t all that far-off. The unzipping of a tent, the dropping of a saddle bag. Then the feeling of a big, warm mass against your shoulder. It roused you successfully, made your eyes flutter open. Charles was leaning over you, confusion and worry plastered all over his expression. He knew he should have expected this, though.