Next Day.
Morning arrived quietly, borne on the soft chorus of birdsong and the cool breath of air drifting through the open balcony. The veil of night parted slowly, easing him into the calm embrace of morning.
Sol slowly opened his eyes. The heavy, oppressive darkness of the night had finally surrendered to the pale, slate-gray light of the Orrath morning, filtering through the cracks in the heavy wooden shutters. The fire pit in the center of the spacious room had completely died out, leaving only the faint, lingering scent of woodsmoke mixed heavily with the undeniable, musky tang of their unchained indulgence.
And the first thing he noticed was the missing warmth on his side, the plush, downy feathers beside him shifted.
Sol rolled his head to the side. And indeed, the spot next to him was empty, the white pelts still holding the indentation of Kira's body. He pushed himself up on one elbow and scanned the room in morning confusion.
