Those few hours before the sun rose seemed to be the hardest for most. For her, it was her favourite time of day.
It was the coldest, but she often thought it was bewitching. A new day would rise like a ray of hope that could be witnessed at only this time. Dusk brought fear, but dawn chased away the shadows and everything that lurked within them.
Her gaze fell on the Duskwalker.
Well, it chases most things away.
She brought her knees up so she could lean her elbow on it and shove her cheek against the back of her knuckles. It’s scary that your kind can walk in the light. It means we’re never truly safe.
Then again... if all Duskwalkers were like Ingram, would humankind be safe from them if they just stopped being afraid? The skull face made them off-putting because it was a clear reminder of death, but if humans removed their prejudices, would they have been safe from them?
A small whine breaking from him had her drawing her face away from her knuckles. Yet it was his sudden twitching, all his muscles leaping and his tail twisting, that had her brows furrowing deeply.
“Ingram,” she softly called when he gave another whine, hoping not to disturb him fully, but to startle whatever nightmare gripped him.
She wasn’t dumb. She knew approaching him mid-dream could end up with her on the wrong side of his claws.
Just as she opened her mouth once more, intending to be a little louder, he sprung to his feet within the span of a breath. Orbs white, stance wide like he was ready to fight, and breaths sawing in and out of him, he stared into the forest – at least, she thought he did with the direction his skull was facing.
“Hey there,” she cooed to grab his attention. His skull darted to her as his body flinched back a step. “Bad dreams, huh?” Her question had been spoken casually, letting him know she understood why he’d woken and that it was okay to be afraid.
His tone was gravelly, his words spoken with a sense of urgency. “There, I have rested.”
“A few minutes is not rest, Ingram.” However, she was starting to realise the root of the problem. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering how she could help him. “I used to have a lot of nightmares too. Bad ones, where I’d wake up in a layer of sweat, barely able to breathe.”
Ingram did not respond, and his orbs bore into her.
Emerie sighed, rubbing at her cheek. “I don’t know how to help you. I’ll be honest with you, Ingram... I have my own internal scars that haven’t truly healed, and I doubt what worked for me will work for you. I don’t know if sharing my own stories will help you or burden you, but I want you to know that I do care ab–”
“I do not like being alone,” he quietly stated, cutting her anxious rambling short.
Her head jerked, and a frown creased her forehead. “But you’re not alone. I’m here with you.”
His orbs morphed into blue. “But I... feel alone.”
“I don’t know how to fix that for you,” she answered honestly, turning her gaze downward.
Emerie had experienced her fair share of loneliness while in a crowded room. It was a terrible emotion to wallow in, and an even harder one to crawl her way out of.
She’d been trying for years, yet it was always present. It clung like a parasite, a leech, unwilling to let go until it was finished feasting.
“If I did, I would try,” she continued. “Like when I gave you that hug, remember?”
Like he was cautious, Ingram took a hesitant step. Then he came closer, and closer, until he was towering over her and she was forced to crane her neck.
Emerie didn’t move, unsure of what he was doing.
He placed his palm against the fallen tree, paused, then shoved it to the side. She almost fell over when her back support was gone, but quickly righted herself. Then he walked behind her and slowly laid down until he became her wall instead. She looked over her shoulder at him and noticed he was tense.
The silence that lingered between them as they stared at each other was heavy with an unspoken question on his end. He was waiting to see if she would reject him.
For some reason, despite everything she’d witnessed pertaining to him, she thought this might be the most vulnerable she’d seen of Ingram. His tears had been harrowing but uncontrolled. This was him openly revealing his anxieties.
Was this the wisest position for her to be in? Probably not. If he had another nightmare, he would unwittingly hurt her.
Still, the sadness and loneliness in his yawning blue orbs niggled away at her trepidation. The big Duskwalker wanted to cuddle her like a freaking living teddy bear, and she was unwilling to deny him.
Emerie pet his tail since it was the easiest to reach, showing him it was okay, and all the tension eased out of him. Slowly, like he wanted to be sly about it, he curled around her until she was shielded from the elements on three sides.
Ingram tucked the tip of his tail between her arse and her feet until it was wrapping around her. After a few moments, he grew a little braver, a little more confident.
Using the very tip of his beak, he nudged it against her legs until she was forced to put them into a crossed position. He placed his head on her lap, and once more grew stiff. She eventually lowered her arms until one was resting over his neck with her hand between his short goat horns.
“Is this okay?” she asked, lightly patting the downward crease on his forehead to reference what she meant.
He became completely lax. “Yes. It feels nice.”
“Good. Now go the hell to sleep, or do you need me to sing you a lullaby too?” she tried to tease, in case he had any remaining worries.
When he snorted out a contented huff, Emerie gave him a small smile as tenderness bloomed within her.
Ingram passed out within seconds.
How can a monster... A Duskwalker, who has a skull for a face, be this sweet? She almost pictured him as a gigantic puppy demanding cuddles from their master, wanting to be as close as possible.
After hugging him earlier, and now this, she understood that he meant physically when he said he felt alone.
She kept brushing her fingertips from side to side, hoping the action would help prevent any nightmares. She looked up at the brightening sky with a small smile.
At least this is much warmer.
Ingram quietly grumbled as he paced back and forth in the forest by himself.
Water splashing a small distance away caused his skull to face that direction. The urge to follow the noise niggled at him. Instead, his scales lifted in annoyance, and he continued to pace.
Why will she not let me see?
Emerie was bathing, since the stream had opened up again and allowed her space to dip inside. He’d wanted to stay and protect her, watch her, and just be in her general vicinity.