7th of Summer 512AV
Shadowfang opened his eyes in a brief moment of awareness. It must have been the middle of the night, everything was dark and there was no movement, save for the occasional snore or the rustling of a bed sheet. Shadowfang was lying in his own bed, feeling the warmth of his bunkmate, Ana, beside him. Normally, he would be wide awake at this time of night, out hunting or relaxing in a tree or writing in his journal, but the Spire's scheduals had messed up his internal clock. Over time from the moment they left Sunberth, he had turned into a daywalker. He shifted a little bit to get one of his his wings out from under him, trapped in an awkward position they were.
The bed was very warm and soft; almost so soft that it was uncomfortable and made his sleep restless, but he had gotten used to it. He turned until both wings were hanging off the edge of the bed and he was facing the woman lying on the other side of the bed. Ana. She was... odd. A woman who could go from timid to courageous at random moments, who's body was no more developed than a human pup, and (for some reason or another) who's hands were green.
He closed his eyes again and pulled one of his wings over himself to make a makeshift blanket of black fur and leathery skin. He slept on top of the bed sheets, his massive wings too large to fit and his own fur too warm to be comfortable under them, while the furless, wingless human girl slept under them. In one of his bout of groggy, midnight awakeness Shadowfang had thought of the sheets as a sort of symbol to how differently their races were built. Awfully philosophical for a groggy Zith.
