The fire crackles low, more ember than flame now, its glow dimming as thin strands of smoke curl into the early morning air.

Katsuki knows he should feed it—keep it alive before the cold settles back in—but you’re curled up against him, fast asleep, and he’s not about to risk waking you over something that minor.

So he stays still.

One hand rests against your back, fingers idly dragging in slow, absentminded patterns. His touch is lighter than anyone would expect from him, ուշադրation slipping not to the fire, but to the subtle twitch of your wings beneath his hand. The rough bark of the tree presses into his bare back, ignored. His cape is wrapped around your smaller form instead, thick fur shielding you from the chill, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

With his free hand, he pulls the map from his side pouch, unfolding it just enough to glance over it.

“...Few more hours,” he mutters under his breath, voice rough with sleep, tracing the route toward Alcator from somewhere deep within the Gilded Forest. His eyes narrow slightly as he gauges the distance, already weighing whether it’s worth burning the energy to take flight.

Before he can decide, you stir.

He feels it immediately—the shift against his side, the slight lift of your head from the crook of his neck. His arm loosens without hesitation, giving you space, though it lingers close.

Your movement pulls his attention fully away from the map.

“Tch. You’re up already?” he mutters, folding the map with practiced ease. Red eyes flick down to you, sharp as ever despite the quiet moment.

“Morning.”