Despite everything, Kira had settled heavily against their assortment of blankets the night prior. The familiar smell of them and the welcoming warmth had swaddled her into a quick sleep, her head angled toward Revan’s just as his was tilted near her, and she had drifted off with a quick, albeit restless sleep. Fortunately dreamless, it saw her through until morning despite the worries that plagued her, the ones that lay heavily over her shoulders, and she slept later that she might’ve normally under the pretext of knowing that today, ideally, would be a moment of reprieve.

So deep beneath the waves of unconsciousness, the young queen hardly processed the weight of Revan’s head where it came to rest against her abdomen, the warmth of him suddenly tucked that much closer. If anything, a soft, contented sound had left her parted lips, and her head had nodded gently into the blankets as her limbs curled into him of their own volition. Turning her neck slightly, the velvet of her muzzle had just brushed whatever skin on him that she could reach, and she had waded deeper into the hours of the morning with the inviting smell of him all but suffocating her.

When at last she woke, it was with a begrudging admission that the buttery light cast over her eyes couldn’t be ignored any longer. She heeded it, albeit with great reluctance, with fluttering lashes and a sluggish realization that Revan’s head was poised heavily upon her abdomen.

By the time her lashes had blinked the sleep groggily from her vision, she had tilted her head to the side to watch him—her expression warm, tender, and still carrying the slightest remnants of sleep. Her limbs were folded sorely beneath her from remaining in one position for too long, but she didn’t dare to shift; didn’t want to risk shaking the vulnerability from his so much younger, so much soft features.

So, Kira watched him instead, her hazel eyes tracing the sloping outline of the scar she had given him, and an unseen hand gently brushing his dusky forelock away from his brow.

It was some long minutes before he woke, her gaze still level with the waking steel of his own, and yet she was drawn from a startled stupor as his head slowly lifted from her abdomen. His words, coupled with the wearied way his head came to rest back down against the blankets, made her smile.

She wanted to lean a little closer and tuck her head beside his, or to stretch her limbs out on either side of her and let the sunlight filtering through wake her sleepy muscles. She didn’t—she didn’t, because there were still so many boundaries she, now more than ever, feared to toe the line of.

“It’s alright. I don’t have anywhere to be,” she answered, her voice faint and thick from disuse through the course of the night. “We were going to spend the day together. Remember?” Kira kept her words soft, because if he nodded off again, she wholly lacked the willingness to wake him back up. Not when he rested so rarely.

“Unless you’re hungry,” she added quietly. “I can go get us something, if you want.”

“Are you saying you want to go back to sleep?” she answered playfully, angling her head a little closer to his, huffing a faint laugh at the wearied angle of his eyes. As if on cue, she turned away to yawn—a broad, open mouthed yawn; one that she sighed noisily into before gently shaking out her mane. Coppery pieces had, as always, come mostly undone during the night. She did nothing to correct them as more spilled free now.

But, as always, Kira was hungry. She found herself sorely regretting not stashing away more of the delectable treats her people were capable of making, but she found it to be painfully clear that she had no way to preserve them in an edible, still palatable way. The retrospective thought made her brow furrow in disappointment, and she tilted her head up slightly to peek out of one of the open windows, her ears twitching in time to Revan’s voice and the gentle lull of the sea.

Kira only turned back to the Starborn at his quiet suggestion that he be the one to fetch their breakfast, and the look she gave him was nothing short of surprise—and a bit of wonder. It was unlike him, but knowing it would only worsen his uncertainty to dwell upon the newness of the offer, she left it be.

She tilted her head up at him with a quiet, newly-woken smile.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to. But I’m fine to go with you, if you’d like,” one of her shoulders lifted in a shrug, and her forelegs shifted to stretch out in front of her, and she shivered at the pleasantries of her languid muscles shaking loose. “I can wait a while longer, though. I’m comfortable here, if you are. Or we can go out and scavenge around for something later in the afternoon—I’m good at that.” Her smile was warmer, a little surer of itself, as she glanced over at him.

But she couldn’t yet return the heartfelt tenderness of his eyes, as much as she appreciated the deep meaning behind them. She feared that seeing such devotion reflected upon her expression would frighten him away—and, after the night before, she wasn’t willing to risk it.

“I didn’t really plan out anything that we might do today. Other than sleep and eat,” she admitted, instead, her lips pursing thoughtfully as she settled her head back down against the blankets, curling her pliant limbs close. When she glanced up at Revan from the strange angle, her eyes had to shift upward uncomfortable to get a glimpse of him. “Any thoughts?”

As much as she appreciated his willingness to accompany her wherever her daily routine might’ve begged they gone, Kira knew she had no intention of doing anything along those lines. She had for weeks now, since a season prior, and though her workaholic nature demanded nothing short of the best, she was confident she could forego some of those smaller responsibilities. At least for a day, or two.

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” she agreed with a gentle hum. “No work today, though,” she tacked on, smiling up at him gently. Her hind legs curled closer to herself as she adjusted on the pile of blankets, nestling down into the warmth of them further in that brief quiet.

His decision startled her, and her head lifted slightly as her hazel eyes flicked in his direction. She hesitated, but a quick scan of the resolved draw of his brow told her that he had made up his mind. It was a step forward, she supposed—assuming that he wasn’t just forcing himself to act upon the whim to make amends for the night prior. The thought alone made her worry her bottom lip, but Kira nodded her head slowly.

The tender touch he placed along the crest of her neck, his words lingering warmly by her skin, sent a shuddering chill racing down her spine. She didn’t move, other than leaning ever-so-slightly into the velvet of her muzzle, before releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held as he withdrew and moved to stand. Her disappointment at his parted touch was short-lived, and she righted herself as she huffed another breathe.

“Alright,” Kira murmured, tilting her head up to watch him rise and step away. “Take your time,” she offered, her smile softer than before—tender with quiet wonder. The insecurity that flickered within his fading words and the apprehension of his smile only made her expression warm with reassurance, and she offered him an encouraging nod as he left.

Which left her to look around their hut for Twig, who was surprisingly absent this morning. The cat was nearly full-grown now, and Atollon was safe—and his end of their shared bond was cheerful; playful, even.

A passing thought regarding his whereabouts confirmed her suspicion, and she smiled as her bonded relayed his whereabouts. Playing with some of the foals down at the shore—it was one of his favorite things to do.

Shaking out her fur, she slowly forced herself to stand and to stretch each limb was painstaking care, reassembling the mussed blankets and pillows beneath her that comprised their bed. Revan’s absence and her “day-off” left her notable uncertain of what to do with herself, however, and so her immediate instinct was to make for the doorway and to head toward the ramp that lead outside.

If Revan was fetching their breakfast, then she could certainly steal the free time to find a cozy copse of shade, sparsely dappled with warming sunlight, in a throng of palm trees. It was within view of the ramp leading to their hut, which meant she could either call out to him or he would see her upon his return, but she spread out a blanket she had dragged along with her over the sand, weighing it down with stones.

And, while she waited, she moved towards the crystalline water the lapped at the shoreline, wading into the lukewarm shallows and giggling, marveling, at the island’s bounties as she splashed through the sea.

The water, empty as it was, remained her companion in the quiet minutes that Revan was gone and Twig was occupied. Kira did little more than wade, smiling at the tickle of water against her skin and the warmth of the sun against her back. It was a different sort of heat to the desert--it was welcoming, inviting, and begged her to stay sprawled out beneath its golden arms. She could've stayed there for hours, spiraling in and out of the ripples that her body created and the gentle wake made by her shifting limbs, but Revan returned sooner than she had anticipated.

She hadn't heard his arrival. No, his voice was all that betrayed he was watching her, and Kira started gently as her head whipped around to face him. By now, she had forfeited the hairstyle that contained her mane to buns, letting it fall freely into the water. The coppery ends were longer than she had realized, and her hair had been thoroughly soaked up to about midway. If the queen minded, however, it did nothing to dampen her bright grin as she recovered from her fright and looked his way.

"Just a bit," she called back, her smile softening as she shrugged. Kira passed the water a lingering glance before she waded toward the shore, shaking droplets from her pelt as she followed her nose and the rich smells coming from the basket Revan had acquired.

Her ears perked at his words, and a breath of relief left her lips as she nodded. It didn't matter what he'd come across for the breakfast, though she deeply appreciated that he had gotten something he'd known she would enjoy, but Kira was undoubtedly grateful that at least one of her people had shown him kindness.

She expected no less of them--they had given her no reason to--but she was glad, nonetheless.

"You didn't have to do that. I'm not sure you should encourage me having sweets for breakfast," she smiled at him. "Thank you, though."

Kira paused as he indicated the basket again, and she kept herself from digging in as he continued. Her head turned his way as a small breath left her, barely a huff of gentle laughter, and her gratitude remained as she passed him a smile.

Pulling away the top of the basket, she elected to ignore the food in favor of picking one flower up, holding it aloft with the utmost care. The smell was rich: tropical and sweet, and though she knew the flowers would die, she had already made plans to dry and to keep them with care.

But she didn't let herself venture down the path of what the gift might mean, if anything at all. The smile she gave him was no less warm, but she didn't move to press a timid kiss to his cheek; she didn't brush a grateful touch to his shoulder; she didn't ask to braid his hair back and to hide flowers in the loops like she desperately wanted.

Kira just set the flower down gently, brushing each one aside to unveil the food, tucking the flowers flowers into a side of the basket that would remain protectively untouched.

"They're beautiful," she commented. "Thank you--I can dry and press them this evening, maybe, and show you how." It seemed like a harmless enough offer.

Moving closer toward the blanket she had laid out, her slender limbs folded beneath her as she settled to the ground, placing the basket a few inches in front of her before rummaging for any of the delicious smelling, neatly-wrapped concoctions. She opted for a leaf-wrap of sorts, which was filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables that she couldn't place; Kira had no complaints as she took a bite before glancing up at him, thinking through her mouthful.

"What'd you think of the town?" She asked, conversational if nothing else.

Kira smiled at him sheepishly, offering a nod by way of answer. She hadn’t expected him to know, and his shame softened her expression significantly. It wasn’t something that had ever come up, and in the time that they’d been together, they’d lacked both the resources and the ability for her to try. She shrugged slightly, but nodded in agreement to his comment—her smile broadening timidly.

“There were just a few things that would grow in the desert I grew up in,” she confessed. “I liked to pick them and preserve them whenever I traveled with… the Fighters. In case I never got the chance to see them again.”

Digging through her food mouthful by mouthful, she nudged the basket in his direction as he settled on the opposite side, refusing to let him starve the morning away just to indulge her insatiable appetite. Kira didn’t press him any further despite that small gesture, picking through the fruit and leaf wrap with absolute ease as she spoke—and then, as she attentively listened to his reply.

His uncertainty made her heart clench painfully, and despite her pride in him for taking the step forward, she regretted having not accompanied him. He might have enjoyed the small town more, then—

Or, more likely, they would have been accosted by people and he would’ve become uncomfortable. One day, maybe, she could show him her favorite parts; one day, she hoped, he would feel secure enough in himself to do that. For now, though, Kira could be patient. She could be patient, and she could be proud of his accomplishments.

Because this, she reminded herself, wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about her desires, or how her heart did gentle somersaults when he spoke her name, or how her skin shivered when he touched her. It was about helping him to heal—to grow. It was about shouldering as much of his weight as he would allow her as he continued his journey toward what he wanted to be.

“That’s alright—it’s a lot to walk through the first few times. I know I got lost in the couple of days after we got here,” she admitted quietly, offering him a reassuring smile as she polished off the wrap. “But… everyone here is a pleasant—I don’t think they thought of you as trouble.” Kira promised him, her voice softer than before as she angled her head to the side. “I’m glad you found someone to help you find your way around.”

Whoever the stranger was, she passed on her silent gratitude.

Her grin became toothier, more sure of itself, as he remarked on the food. “It was delicious—I don’t think there’s anything here that I don’t like. They’ve got good taste. I think, anyways—I don’t know much else.” She shrugged again, still smiling, before his question caused her eyes to turn toward the village.

“He left before we woke up to go play with the foals down by the water. He enjoys their company, and they’re fascinated with him—I think his ego enjoys it. But I’m sure it’s nice for him to have friends more… in his age group,” her words were fond as she thought of her companion, and as she thought of the small gaggle of youngsters she had befriended over the days. “They’re a sweet bunch, too—” she glanced over at Revan. “He wouldn’t admit it, I don’t think, but he likes to watch over them. Make sure they stay out of trouble.”

Kira paused before she continued. “It’s… strange, being around them. I don’t know that I’ve ever met a child—even when I was a girl. Not one that… well, survived, anyways,” the comment was remarkable blunt, if not realistic, considering. “I think they’re a little more down-to-earth than adults.”