[for tim] - the Lady and the Robin, part deux
The days grew shorter and the nights cooler. She had been human again three full months, at the turn of the season, and Morgan found herself acknowledging, however, reluctantly that her stay in this body would not likely be of short duration. She still hoped she might Ascend again in time, but it no longer seemed either certain or pressing; she had Ascended to learn, and she had forgotten much of being human.
This particular morning, roused from sleep by Cameron's nightmares and her own, Morgan rose earlier than usual. Well before dawn, she left the comfort of Cameron's arms, and pulled by a decided disquiet, climbed to the roof of the Compound for her meditation rather than going to the waterfall as had become her habit. Since her talk with Sprout, she had gone there when she required perspective.
By first light, the discomfiture of fitful sleep had passed, and she sat in restful non-thought, focused inward but alive to the breeze-carried birdsong, the shift of light and accompanying stirring of the most intrepid island dwellers. Her hands rested lightly on her knees, her breathing came steady and even, and all but the most familiar with her habits or practitioners of the arts might be forgiven for thinking her deeply asleep.
This particular morning, roused from sleep by Cameron's nightmares and her own, Morgan rose earlier than usual. Well before dawn, she left the comfort of Cameron's arms, and pulled by a decided disquiet, climbed to the roof of the Compound for her meditation rather than going to the waterfall as had become her habit. Since her talk with Sprout, she had gone there when she required perspective.
By first light, the discomfiture of fitful sleep had passed, and she sat in restful non-thought, focused inward but alive to the breeze-carried birdsong, the shift of light and accompanying stirring of the most intrepid island dwellers. Her hands rested lightly on her knees, her breathing came steady and even, and all but the most familiar with her habits or practitioners of the arts might be forgiven for thinking her deeply asleep.