Dragoncrest Cliffs the grinch wishes he had a heart as small as mine

It is not much longer Antumbra is sleeping than Rose. Her ear twitches when she first notes movement but she can’t pull herself out of slumber. There’s no immediate threat detected and so she remains quiet, curled in a large, black ball.

When she does stir, she slowly unfurls and stretches out her legs and trying to stifle a yawn, clicking her teeth together when she can. How many nights had she slept outside Wildfire’s preferred den, much like this one? There’s an ease in this comfort, something she’s done time and time again. Maybe later, she’ll realize it’s weird and unhealthy, but right now she clings to the familiarity of a simpler time.

“Hey,” she says quietly, shifting a little. Rose doesn’t seem bothered by her presence so she doesn’t rush to stand, but she does make more room from the opening to give her some space.