Dawn had barely brushed the sky with the faintest shades of lavender and blue when I felt Claude stir beside me.
I blinked away the last traces of sleep and turned my head slowly.
Claude was already upright, sitting at the edge of the bed with his boots half-laced, his sword strapped and ready by his side.
He moved with that same maddening grace, quietly, fluidly, and intentionally. Like, he didn't even need sleep, or did not even feel exhaustion at all. Like he was carved from some ancient god's stubborn resolve.
"You're up," I mumbled, my voice still husky with sleep. I yawned and stretched my arms up, my bones cracked, but it was not enough to wake me up completely. "What time is it?"
Claude didn't look back, but I saw the side of his jaw tick. "Time to go."
