A cold, wet nose against her palm was the sensation that finally stirred her towards waking. Frowning, grunting softly, she shifted against the cold ground, and her green eyes crept open to see the wolf-hound sprawled over her lap. His tongue lolled out of his jaws, and his panted breaths formed little, white puffs of steam in the chilly air.
"Mmf...off, Cormac...go on..." she murmured, pushing weakly at his large, grey bulk. The trunk of the tree felt as if it had bored a permanent valley into her back, and her first few minutes of movement were stiff and slow. The hound gave a loud sneeze as he got to his feet, and with a shake of his head, he moved off into the dim morning mist, undoubtedly to find his own breakfast. She knew he might be gone for an hour or a week. She would not worry for him.
As she drew her legs up, preparing to stand, one of her boots slipped halfway off her foot. She stopped and looked down at it, puzzled. The laces were loosened. She didn't remember doing so the night before, but a little shrug of her shoulders accepted that she must have done, and simply fallen asleep before tightening them again.
The sun had not yet crested the eastern horizon as she stood to her feet, stretching and groaning softly for the lack of a proper bed. She lingered just long enough for a swig from her waterskin, splashing a little of the chilled liquid over her face, and then her feet carried her off towards the road.
As the wisps of dew-soaked grass whipped against her ankles, her thoughts turned to the Hooded Man. A faint wistfulness dared to throb within her chest. Was this what it meant to miss a person? Their last encounter and conversation replayed in her mind as her boots thumped steadily against the hard-packed road. She wanted to experience such a thing again.
And she wanted to forget it had ever happened.
