Boys Don't Cry - The Cure

Ollie had slept through the night, unmoved like the dead. When the morning came his awareness drifted back to the living. He was exhausted. He peeled his eyes open just enough to peer through his lashes. The form of grey nearly purple smoke fur comforted him to know she was still there. He missed sleeping close to Wylan. He missed hearing him chatter on with Seneca and Marina in the next room. He missed being held so overbearingly close under wings and furs and being fed teas and meals when he was too weak to lift his head. He missed being squashed between his siblings and listening to their stories about their lessons and days when he hadn’t been able to join them. He heard the treehouse had crumbled in the blight. He missed that treehouse.

He noticed her shift in breathing but he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head as she stirred. How much would she remember?

Her dry comment gave him enough of an answer. He drew in a heavy deep breath and sighed it out with an exhausted groan.

“Do you remember the question you had for me last night?” He asked, tilting his head to let a droopy half closed eye look at her through his white lashes. What was his childhood like? His ribs were showing through his fur, she might be able to count them from there.

"Speech!"