They slept for another few hours, until the sun rose in the east, peeking through bare trees. Aoife woke first, sitting up slowly and ruffling Gray’s hair before she abandoned their blankets and started to roll back the tarp they’d sheltered under during the previous day’s storm. Gray grumbled softly, cracking an eye open and watching her work.
“Is it really morning?”
She laughed. “The sun says it is, anyway. Are you awake?”
“My body says I am, but my eyes and my head want to go back to sleep.” Gray stretched, squeezing his eyes shut as he yawned. “Any insight on how far it is to get to your brother?”
“He’s close,” Aoife said, then shrugged. She couldn’t be very precise—her ability to sense her family wasn’t an exact science. She knew they were close, knew which direction to go in, but beyond that, she didn’t have much help to offer. “The feeling of him is pretty strong.”
“That’s good, right?” Gray started getting ready to rig up the sails. The breeze was relatively light, though there were occasional increases that promised a stiff wind was coming soon enough. “You were worried about him when we started all of this.”
“I’ve been worried about him non-stop since I felt something stab him months ago,” Aoife admitted softly. “The fact that I can feel him strongly and the fact that we’re closer…that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
Gray slid his arm around her waist and held her for a moment. Aoife sighed softly, resting her head against his shoulder.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she whispered. “Thank you for not letting me convince you to let me go alone.”
“There was never a possibility that I’d have let you leave without me,” Gray told her, then kissed the top of her head. “You’re stuck with me.”
“And glad of it,” Aoife said, grinning as she reached for the rigging. “Come on. Let’s get this sail up.”
Home is where family is, and I’m nearly home.
When she finally gets there, I wonder which she will do first: hug Phelan or punch him.
He does seem to have that affect on people.