Phoenix Maplewood You say things with your mouth --

None of the other pack members knew of her sleeping troubles. She had often been a restless sleeper as a child, afraid of being vulnerable to the wolves in her pack. She had grown accustomed to small amounts of sleep then and now it was the same. The small spans of unconsciousness she did find had no solace. They were plagued by distant memories of pain that she tried hard to repress. She often had night terrors and took to roaming the woods in the wee hours of the morn.

"I do," she agreed quietly, lost in thought. "Sometimes it feels hard to shut your mind off and just rest." She was an overthinker, a dweller of the past and of her troubles. Sleep often eluded her.