Of Snow and Blankets

Mazes, fighting, claws, running

I pull myself across the ocean of empty bed between us and slip beneath his blanket, dragging his dead hand across my body. His instinctive reaction is to pull away, but he stretches a little to cover it up. I tug his arm back around me, murmuring into his warmth that I had a nightmare, and he is instantly in protector mode, wrapping me up in comfort.

“Roll over and I’ll hold you,” he says in a voice thick with sleep. I sit up to arrange my pillow. Tendrils of nightmare fall away from me and litter my bed. “Look,” I point. Through the slice of open window I see white. Snow always excites me; happiness like a child when it’s even in the forecast.  He smiles a little, pulling me down into place.  “I know,” he says, and I slide down to lay against him, my pillow nestled in the crook of his arm.  He is asleep again instantly, comfortable and happy to have me in his arms.

And I forget just what it was I was dreaming about.

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