The Sun Sídhe

21 - White Eyes

We slept in the glade Aeden pointed out that night, tiredly switching watch duty between ourselves on the off chance Shayne or Cael did come back. The forest floor wasn't nearly as nice as beds at an inn would've been, but if Morrigan said staying in An Hainn wasn't worth the risk, I believed her.

I was the last to take watch. Clouds loomed overhead, blotting out the pale light of the moon: if not for the campfire, we'd be drenched in darkness. All was quiet. I spent my time prodding the flames back to life, feeling cold, and awkwardly watching the others sleep. The only disturbance that came was Aeden's nightmare.

He was sprawled beside the fire in the form of a wolf. It was interesting—the fresh bandages I'd given him remained in place, though they'd somehow changed to fit his forelegs. I spent some time wondering at the logic of his shifting—could he keep his clothes, too, if he wanted? Or a satchel?

As I scrutinised the shadows, he growled. I jolted upright, preparing for an attack before I realised he was only dreaming. His ears flattened against his head; his breathing fell out of its previous cadence, sharp and shallow. Golden flecks of light skittered across his fur, filling the air with an agitated hum of energy.

"Oi," I whispered, scooting over to him. After some hesitation, I rested my hand on his side. "You're going to wake the others."

Aeden was usually a light sleeper, but he only twitched at my touch. His movements eased, though, and he seemed to calm down somewhat. I frowned at him before moving back, rubbing my bad leg absently.

"Our kind doesn't dream much." Morrigan's voice was soft as a breeze. She'd let her hair down; it was glossy and perfect despite the fact that she'd been sleeping on dirt. Sweeping it behind her shoulders, she soundlessly pulled herself to Aeden's side. The fire reflected in her eyes, orange-gold flames in a sea of crimson. "They're usually visions, or... memories."

"I know. It's not hard to guess what's haunting him," I muttered.

"No, it isn't."

"You should go back to sleep, Morri."

"I will soon. When I took watch earlier, the same thing happened—I don't want to see him in pain." She gently touched the side of Aeden's head, humming a soft melody I didn't recognize. It had the notes of a lullaby. His unruly energy settled back into his body, where I could no longer sense it.

"Are you doing something to him? He usually wakes if someone breathes differently," I whispered.

She shook her head softly. "I'm trying to ease his mind, nothing more. He's... with you on watch, he must be comfortable enough to sink into a deep sleep."

"He doesn't seem the trusting type."

"He's not." With that, Morrigan resumed her feather-soft singing.

Weariness flooded my body as the notes drifted around us. I'd slept more than enough to stay functional: I'd never needed more than an hour or two of rest, unlike Ronan or any other human. But after all the energy I had expended and without the sun to fuel me, I was tired. I drew up my uninjured leg and rested my chin on my knee. "You treat Aeden rather like a child, sometimes."

"He is a child." She paused, a delicate frown touching her lips. "At least, he hasn't finished maturing yet. Neither have you. That won't come for another decade or so."

It was true enough, but I bristled all the same. "What about Ronan, then? He's the same age as Aeden and I. Are you calling us immature?"

"Humans reach adulthood somewhat more swiftly," she said quietly. "I don't mean to insult either of you."