Firefly Glen it's planting seeds in a garden you never see

Leta had been asleep, dreaming of violently yellow eyes and their wicked stare. It was paralyzing, that, and Leta had thought she had escaped such things. It had been a long, long time since such a vision had come to her... but it rendered her immobile. She could scarcely breathe to see them, unblinking, watching. Who they belonged to Leta did not know, but in the place where fear never rests Leta could feel that familiar heavy dread squeeze. Leta was not at all aware of the reasoning behind this; why did she feel as though someone was breathing upon her? Rancid breath upon her nape—

The howl of Osiris dispelled this vision, this feeling. Leta woke with a start, able to move again (breathe again), coltishly rising to all fours and blinking away the sleep as she looked all around her. No one near to be watching her, but soon the reason for searching was swept away by wakefulness. What had she dreamt of? She could not remember, and the harder she tried to recall it the further it went from her grasp. 

Osiris sang again, and she heard all the voices join with his own. It was without thought that Leta set off in his direction; he was safety, he was comfort, he was home, and so was this, and these voices singing. All of it, home. And when she saw him there, Leta felt the song fully in her heart as her voice joined to tell of it and echo the sentiments of Osiris. 

A little breathless after, Leta looked to him; he was bathed in moonlight, and surrounded by a canvas of stars—it was then she felt a peaceful, and warm, calm settle around her. And so she drew nearer to the tawny Ostrega and asked softly, would it be alright if... if I stayed with you, tonight? too tired to think on perception, his or hers—only wanting to be close to him, and this feeling that contrasted entirely the frozen terror she had unknowingly endured in her sleep.