Chapter 1

Flight from Branberry

November nights were always the worst. They were the kinds of nights where you sat curled up against the warmth of a fireplace, the lick of its flames sliding up your body and filling your body to the brim in comfort and calm. They were the kinds of nights where you cocooned yourself in five blankets, nestling down against the fabrics of your bed and clung to whatever stuffie happened to be within two feet of you. They were the kinds of nights where you watch the icy rain splash against the windows, ogling at the crack of lightning that split the sky into streams of silver and gold.

Nathaniel Barrow however, did not have the fortune of experiencing November nights in such a manner.

The wind gifted dark secrets in quiet whispers in that chilly, dark ally. Picking up crumpled pieces of paper, they were flung across the uneven slabs of broken concrete, swirling around a shape huddled against the rough side of a building. Haunting beams of silver light cast down from a half shadowed moon illuminated the figure who shifted, trying to disappear in his oversized coat.

Crouched behind a stack of UPS boxes, the boy gave a violent shiver. The tips of his fingers were numb and cold, and as he gave a shaky exhale his breath curled in an icy mist, evaporating inches from his lips and he closed his black eyes, leaning against the boxes.

Normally, he would have been able to take refuge from the cold. He had one particular spot in an abandoned shop that he would typically go to on such cold nights. But not this time. Not with the creature lingering in every shadow. Giving a small shiver, one not elicited from the cold, the young boy scooted further underneath the lamp that hung from the wall with a sign just below it, swaying slowly in the breeze. He hadn't even bothered trying to read what it said. Every time the young boy strained to read, the letters would swerve and spin, making it absolutely impossible. Concrete steps led up to a worn, light green door with a bronze knob.

He tugged his scarf tighter around his neck. It was a ratty, old thing, black and green that was ripped and stained, the ends of it tattered and mauled. But with the way the young boy clutched it firmly in his hand, you would have guessed it was the most important thing in the world.

Reaching inside his coat, with his messy black hair falling over his eyes, the boy pulled half a rice crispie treat. It would have screamed unsanitary to anyone not half starved. Nathaniel however, nibbled off the ends fondly, giving a delighted sigh as the child rested his head back against the wall. At seven years old, he should have been nestled with his parents in some place that was warm and cozy.

Nathaniel could hardly recall those moments. Indeed, the only thing young Nathan could remember was the night of the accident. It was a night he chose to keep pushed to the back of his mind.

A large crash from behind had Nathan jolting where he sat, snapping his head to the side as his black eyes darted fearfully down the alley to his back. His body was tensed, ready to spring and bolt at the slightest notice of danger. His gaze flashed from the trashcan that had been tipped over to the road, where he could see cars shooting by.

His body remained immobile from some time, not daring to loosen in fear that the creature might show its face again. Finally after what seemed like hours, Nathaniel let himself uncoil and he slumped tiredly against the wall, closing his eyes. He was so exhausted. He'd been running for days, with no direction, no idea where to go. At least until he came here. It seemed safe, he hadn't seen the creature for some time, until last night of course.

His fingers remained curled around the stolen kitchen knife in his small, pale hands. This creature that had been following him, it was a monster. During the weeks it had been stalking him, it never tried to harm him, but every time it came too close he would slash at it with his knife. Only to find that the blade would pass right through its skin, like he was attacking a ghost.

No one else saw it. Every time he shouted out, trying to draw attention from the adults they would merely give him an odd look and continue watching. He couldn't understand why the others couldn't see it, too. Was he truly going insane?

He felt the familiar chill edge its way down his spine and he shivered, backing up so close to the wall that any closer would cause him to phase right through. His eyes remained closed. Maybe if he kept them shut, whatever was out there would go away. Part of him thought bitterly, why don't you just eat me already?

Nathaniel Barrow however, is very stubborn. And death was not on the agenda.

His heart dropped into his stomach as he felt hot breath on his face. His hands were shaking, and his eyes remained glued shut, fingers trembling around the kitchen knife. It's not real, it's not real, it's not reach. Another breath that rolled over his skin had Nathaniel opening his eyes, and turning to face the beast. And he gazed straight into eyes of hellfire, belonging to a massive, black hound.

Nathaniel gasped, shooting up and he backed away so briskly that his heel caught his toes, sending the boy to his bottom. His callused hands clawed behind him as he scooted backwards, eyes locked on the hound in terror.

Like always, the hound did not attack. It stood stoically over the boy, waving its tail back and forth. Nathaniel couldn't understand what it wanted. Was it toying with him? Trying to make him feel fear? If so, it was working with flying colours.

"Get away from me!" Nathan shouted, grabbing a piece of broken concrete from the ground. He hurled it at the hound, striking the monster mutt on the nose and it shook its head in a manner of confusion then snarled, crouching low, as if to pounce.

Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut. Goodbye, cruel world.

There was a yelp and they instantly snapped open. Something was sticking out of the hound's flank - the shaft of an arrow? Its eyes turned on Nathaniel, and for a moment, he thought he saw a question in those eyes. Why? Why however was too long a question to answer, as the hound dissolved into ash, blown away with the next wind.

"Damned dogs are always trying to get into my garbage."

The voice tore Nathan's eyes up from the spot where the monster had been up to the concrete steps leading up into the building. An old woman stood in the open doorway, where soft lamplight spilled outside from within. She must have been at least in her fifties, her hair overtaken with grey and wrinkled along her face and neck. Old, fragile, except for her eyes. A piercing grey that stabbed into Nathaniel just like the arrows strapped to her back. They were almost as scary as the scowl she wore on her lips. "Well?" She asked. "What do you want?"

He couldn't speak. He tried to form a question, but it was lost in his throat, so instead he croaked something incomprehensible and looked at the ground quickly, red rushing up into his face.

"Speak up, boy."

She was met with silence. His mouth was now locked shut as he kept his eyes peeled to the ground. The woman didn't say anything for a moment. He knew she was watching him, could feel those eyes of hers piercing into the top of his head. Finally she walked over, her shoes slapping against the concrete of the alley, approaching him. His spirits lifted. Was she going to help him? Give him food?

Instead, her wrinkled, old lady fingers snapped onto Nathan's ear and yanked him up, a pitiful yowl escaping through his lips. "Did you hear me?" She asked loudly. "What do you want?"

"Food!" He yelped. It was the first thing that came to mind.

She stared at him for a long moment before letting go and he rubbed at his earlobe pathetically. "Food, eh," she said, stepping back to examine him. He felt her eyes travel along his emaciated figure and he huddled deeper into his coat, looking away angrily.

Finally, after a moment of silence, she nodded at the open door. "You've come to the right place, Nathaniel Barrow," she said, gesturing up towards the sign that swung behind her.

Nathan's eyes trailed up to the old sign and squinted. With a light gasp, he realized he could read it. The words didn't swirl as much as they normally did, and after a brief second of concentrating, the words were clear in his mind.

Branberry Orphanage

Home to Half Breeds, Misfits and Mavericks.

"Branberry?" Nathaniel read slowly. A thought crossed his mind and he turned his eyes back to the old woman. "How do you know my name?" He asked suspiciously, his hand tightening around the puny excuse of a knife that he held in his hand. His fingers wrapped firmly around the knife as she crouched down, but when he noticed the lack of a metallic edge in her eyes, he relaxed enough for her to gently take the weapon, tucking it into her pocket.

"You won't need that anymore, Nathan," she said, ignoring his question. "You will be safe here."

"I hate it here."

The dark haired teen lay sprawled out on the sofa, his feet hidden by thick combat boots kicked up on the coffee table, bitter black eyes latched onto the younger children that play on the red carpet of the living room.

Branberry Orphanage. When he had arrived at the place ten years ago, there had been only one other resident, a young girl his age. As the years passed, it had quickly filled up, now with he and said female friend the eldest residents, all the others fourteen or under. And Nathan didn't make a very good babysitter.

Blowing his hair out of his face, which spiked forward in a rebellious manner, he turned ebon eyes out the window where cold wind splashed against the window. Ten years to the date he's been in here. He had just about had it with this place. He couldn't wait to set out on his own in a year.

"You've been saying that for ten years," came a bored reply to his left. Glancing over, Ember was lounging on the couch, her feet behind his back, a light smirk on her thin lips as she watched him, pale green eyes locked onto his. His best friend, and the thorn that was constantly in his side. She moved her feet so that they were hanging over the sofa, tilting her head and raised a pierced brow. "And you still haven't left. I'm sensing a pattern here, Natty." She tucked a stray string of raven black hair behind her ear, the rest hanging from a messy ponytail.

"I would if that crazy old bat would let me," Nathan countered indignantly, rubbing his face as he leaned back against the couch. It was a lie, of course. As much as he hated being cooped up in an old, rickety orphanage that constantly smelled like prune juice, it had become home to the young man. A place he could go to for comfort. Despite the fact that it was a dump.

The orphanage was once a hotel, bought from their caretaker when she was young with her family's fortune, turning it into an orphanage for the weirdo brats that had nowhere to go. You know, the ones that everyone claimed had no hope and fucked up everything they did. From the rusted play structure in the courtyard to the beds with feathers stabbing you in the middle of the night, it was the place he felt most comfort.

Even all of these crazy kids had become a part of his family.

Branberry. It was his home now, and back when he was a kid, he figured that would make him just like all the others. But he wasn't. He was still painfully different from other teenagers. When he was enrolled into a public school (after years of pestering his caretaker for a chance) he immediately busted his opportunity by a horrific accident that involved the school blaming him for a cougar somehow getting into the school. Upon consistent begs, she gave him another chance. And another. And another. Until he was finally stuck in homeschool.

Of course, all the children were a little strange. Nightmares every night, accidents happening at every turn, be it a blankie bursting into flames or lightning harmlessly striking a child in a storm. But even a misfit among misfits, Nathan was always the odd man out. He never felt at peace around the others. Save Ember, of course, but even then, he felt as if she couldn't understand him. Like they were from two different worlds.

"So why not just run away?" Ember asked with a roll of her shoulders. Nathan scowled. Was she really that okay with him just taking off? But as he glanced over to her, he could see the tint of a challenge in her eyes.

Nathan didn't answer. He looked away, pretending to be angry as he stubbornly kept his feet planted on the coffee table. But honestly, the idea made him feel anxious. He was seventeen years old. If he'd been able to make it for a couple months on the streets at seven, he could definitely last less than a year away from the orphanage, at least until he became an adult. The thought of leaving crossed his mind more than once. But a thought always swept over his mind, stopping him from ever leaving through that door.

The hound. Those red eyes of hellfire stalking him from the shadows. Its black teeth bared. Nightmares of the creature kept him inside, even after their caretaker, Mrs. Wilson had destroyed it. Somehow, he felt it was still out there. Biding its time.

But did that really happen? She hit it with an arrow and it just dissolved, like something out of a movie. Shit like that doesn't happen in real life, right? By now, he had nearly convinced himself that it was just his imagination. The creative mind of a distraught child running rampant.

Almost.

"Hey." A nudge came from his side. Ember was smiling, a worried smile, but a smile none the less. "Don't take off, okay? Things would be pretty boring without you."

Nathan managed a strained smile, pushing back his hair. "I won't."

The creaky green door flew open, followed by a rush of cold wind and rain. He glanced up to see Mrs. Wilson stepping into the building. Or at least, her legs. Her torso was hidden behind bags of food and groceries. "Can someone grab this?" Came her voice from behind the bread and Nathan stood up, going to her side to take most of them. He walked over to the kitchen, which was adorned in kitten photos in pink frames, setting the bags on the counter while he listened to the children shouting excitedly, running over to the old woman to ask what treats she got. Quickly, before anyone saw, he dipped his hand into the closest bag and felt around. His fingers finally wrapped around something that felt like candy and he pulled it out, smiling at the Twix. He stuffed it into his pocket and walked back into the living room nonchalantly.

Nothing happened here.

Ember knew better. She always knew. She sent him an angry scowl which he ignored, sitting promptly down beside her. "You're sharing," she hissed and Nathan gave a snort.

"Yeah right."

Mrs. Wilson began handing out suckers to the little ones, some of them bickering about how they wanted blueberry instead of watermelon, and Ember got up to separate them before something spontaneously combusted. Not an uncommon incident at this orphanage.

Mrs. Wilson heaved a sigh as she flung her purse down onto the floor, sitting down between Nathan and Ember, who shared a smile. "How were the little ones?" Mrs. Wilson asked, gesturing to the children who were now seated along the red carpet, wrappers now dominating the space.

"Tommy was talking to the fish again," Ember remembered. Nathan frowned and glanced over at the dark haired boy who was laying on his stomach, watching the television which was playing Spongebob Squarepants. Tommy was an avid fan of Spongebob the animated sponge. The kid was pretty weird. It took him forever to drag him out of a bath.

Mrs. Wilson nodded as if she didn't expect anything different. "And Ally? Is she still having nightmares?"

"She didn't take a nap today," Nathan said. "But I heard her whimpering last night."

"Something about it being dark," Ember said quietly. She stood and walked to little blonde Ally. She was making up her own version of chess, placing the pieces delicately on the board and as Ember scooped her up onto her lap the five year old began to explain the advanced mechanics of Chess 4.5.

"And what about you, Nathan?"

Nathan, startled, turned to her with a frown. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said adamantly.

Mrs. Wilson smiled. A smile that a mother would give after catching a child in a lie after the jar of cookies had gone missing. "I hear you in your sleep, Nathan," she said in a careful, prodding voice. "I know you have been having nightmares as well." She rested a withered hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you do not wish to tell me?"

Nathan's dark eyes had gone to his hands. His clenched fists. He hadn't told anyone about his dream. Not even Ember...god, especially not Ember. It scared him to even think about it. "It doesn't matter," he said gruffly, rolling his shoulder. "It's only a dream."

"Is it?" Mrs. Wilson asked. There was a tone in her voice that made Nathan look at her, his brow furrowed. "Recurring dreams always have meaning, Nathan," she said, a distant look to her steel eyes. "Remember that." She stood up to rant at two of the young children whom had turned on the television, stepping away from Nathan to leave him in his thoughts.

Nathan returned his gaze back to his hands as he rubbed his thumb along the inside of his palm. She wasn't wrong. He wasn't an idiot, he knew it had meaning. He was always trying to convince himself that it was just a dream. That nothing would come of it...but he couldn't help the sinking sensation that something bad was going to happen. Soon.

He was so lost in thought he hadn't noticed that Ember had placed Ally down and sat beside him until her voice came from his right. "...you okay?"

Nathan glanced over to her and nodded dismissively. "Yeah."

"You're a liar."

Nathan swallowed his scowl, instead giving a bitter chuckle as he ran his pale fingers through his dark hair. "You know me too well."

"After ten years looking after your ass, I'd hope so. What's up?"

Nathan didn't answer for a moment. He kept his eyes pinned to his hands. Or perhaps it was the ground. A blank stare and finally he heaved a sigh, glancing up to meet her jade eyes. "Would you come with me? If I left?"

Ember hadn't been expecting the question. She hesitated, rolling the question over in her mind for a moment. "I guess it would depend on where you were headed," she said finally. "But...I think I would come with you." She smirked. "You aren't the only one who is sick of living here, believe me. And I've been here longer than you. So, where would you go?"

Nathan wasn't sure, to be honest. Only that he would eventually leave. Every kid that lived in Branberry left, once they turned eighteen. If they didn't want to, Ember told him they'd be smacked out with the broom then have a bag filled with money and chocolate chip cookies thrown at their head once they'd been beaten out onto the street. As for his destination, he hadn't thought of that. His dreams involved everything that didn't involve Branberry. But an exact location? That was a bit harder. He definitely didn't want to go back home. There were too many memories there. Painful memories.

He opened his mouth to respond, when from outside there was a long, loud howl.

All of the children froze. One yelped, "Puppy!" But otherwise a silence had swept over the building. Mrs. Wilson's head snapped up to the door. And an icy chill slithered down his spine. It was a chill that was all too familiar. He recognized that howl. "...oh no," he whispered, slowly standing. Everything was coming bac. The hellfire eyes. Fangs flashing in silver moonlight. "Ember," he said, turning to the girl. "Listen, we need to get out of-"

He didn't finish, because at that moment the door was broken open. Splinters of wood exploded from the doorframe, and the billowing dust gave way to three massive, raven haired mastiffs, with hellfire eyes fixed directly on Nathan.

Nathan didn't have time to react before one of the hounds leaped towards Tommy. Tommy gave a shrill shriek, putting his arms up. The hound's bared fangs however, failed to reach its mark. Mrs. Wilson intercepted the massive hound with a broom, knocking it to the side. Which was a pretty impressive feat, considering the hounds were the size of mountain lions. Even more impressive still, she was an old hag.

"Nathan!" Mrs. Wilson shouted over her shoulder, using her free moment to rush to the cupboard. Using her forearm to knock soup cans and macaroni boxes to the side, she grabbed the hilt of a blade and pulled the bronze broadsword from the inside. Nathan's eyes bulged. He nearly averted them as she began to tear her coat off. Did she really need to strip in the middle of a dog fight in front of a bunch of children? But underneath was not a shirt or undergarments, but a bronze breastplate that shimmered in the light of the lamp that was knocked to the ground by the tail of a hound.

She raised the sword, deflecting a bite from the hound. It nearly knocked her to the ground and she stumbled backwards with a growl. "Hell hounds!" She shouted, looking to Nathan as if she expected he knew what she meant. He didn't. In fact, he just wanted to bolt.

A hellhound crashed into her side, knocking her to the ground and the broadsword skidded from reach. She held it back with her forearm, its jaws snapping at her face. Shit, shit, shit, what should he do? The sword. He had to get to the sword. He started towards the sword when a hound lunged at his back, pouncing on him from behind. He fell face first, his head smacking into the ground and stars danced in front of his eyes.

He growled, struggling to move and its paw sank harder into his back, keeping him from moving. He looked forward. The sword was only several feet away. He reached out, his arm straining as he reached for the sword and he swore. It was too far away. At least, until a hell hound trampled by, its feet knocking the blade just close enough for his hand to grasp its hilt.

He could hear the dangerous snarl from the hellhound above him, its hot breath on the back of its neck as it stooped down to take a chunk out of him and Nathan shouted, swinging the blade backwards. It connected with the creature, the sword sinking into its skin. Instead of being splattered in blood the creature exploded into thick ash, completely coating him.

"Nathan!" In a daze, Nathan looked up as Mrs. Wilson came closer to him, fending off a hellhound with her broom. It was chaos. Children were screaming, crawling over one another to escape. But other than the one attack, they were completely ignored. All attention was focused directly on Nathan. A ehllhound lunged at him, and instinctively he dodged, ducking down and spun and there was a howl as it struck a garbage can, old lasagna sticking to its matted black fur. "Go!" Mrs. Wilson shouted, spinning to dodge its fangs, landing next to Nathan. She yanked the blade from his trembling fingers and shoved him towards the hall. "Go!"

No. He didn't want to. But before he could say anything, Ember appeared beside him, grabbing his hand and pulled him into a hallway, slamming the door behind them, briskly locking it. Something slammed up against the wooden door, and he could feel scraping as they struggled to bash it down. "Come on!" Her hand found his again and she tried to yank him down the hall, but Nathan gave a growl and wrenched his hand away from hers.

"We can't just leave them."

"They'll be fine! Nathan I don't know why, but they're after you, not them. Maybe...maybe if we leave, they'll follow. Either way, you need to get out of here."

Another terrified scream, this one from Brandin echoed from behind the door and Nathan cringed. "Fine," Nathaniel snarled, and he jerked his thumb towards the door which was beginning to splinter under the weight of the hounds crashing against the wood. "But how do you think we should get away from them?"

"The garbage chute, up top," Ember said instantly, grabbing his arm and pulled him forward. This time, he didn't resist. As the two raced up the stairs, their feet thumping on the creaky wooden steps he heard a crash and howls.

"They broke it down!" He shouted, sparing a look down the staircase. The dogs were starting up and Nathan swore, picking up the pace. Why was this happening? Dogs brutally attacking one guy, ignoring all others with the intention to kill? It was unheard of.

And even worse, now he knew it hadn't been his imagination.

Well, at least he wasn't crazy.

They reached the chute and she quickly pulled up the small door that opened up to the smelly tunnel leading down into darkness. He wrinkled his nose. Right. They had just emptied it this morning. He was about to recommend trying to jump out a window when there was a howl from behind and the two gasped, spinning around. A hound was right behind them, fixing its red eyes on them.

"Go!" He felt her hands shoving roughly on his back and with a yell, he tumbled into the chute. It was dark for a brief moment before he spilled out into the dumpster, getting his bearings for just a moment before Ember fell on top of him. They groaned as their heads collided and he winced, raising his hand to his temple before vaulting out of the dumpster with Ember right behind him.

The two shakily got to their feet, looking up at the chute where a hateful howl echoed from above. "I think they're too big to get through," she said. "But t they can still fit through the door. Let's go."

They sprinted around the corner of the building, and Nathan spared the broken door a glance before baring his teeth and ran harder. Had to get away and lure them. They started down the street when a voice sounded from behind them. "Nathan!"

Nathan skidded to a stop, turning around. M rs. Wilson was at a window, with a long scratch along her face. "The Airforce Academy!" She called. "There are people there that can help you! They-" she didn't finish. A black mastiff threw itself at her, and the two disappeared from sight.

"No!" Ember screamed, turning to sprint back inside. She didn't get far. Nathan latched onto her arm, yanking her back.

"We can't," he said, forcing himself to stay calm. But he couldn't keep the quiver from his voice. "There are too many; we have to go, now!"

Tears stung at Ember's eyes but she nodded firmly, biting her lower lip. She hesitated, opening her mouth to say something when there was a shattering crash and the two jolted, spinning around. A dog had jumped through the window, shaking itself free of glass while the other appeared at the doorway, both of them snarling menacingly.

"Run!" Nathan shouted and while he was running he brought up his leg so that he could rip his shoe off, hopping frantically. Ember shot him a glare.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Slowing them down!" When he finally wrestled off his boot he spun around, launching it at a hellhound. He always sucked at baseball, but as if his smelly boot was guided by some godlike force, it hit the dog right in the nose. It whimpered, stunned and distracted enough to turn in order to avoid any further incoming missiles - slamming right into a light post.

The last one was speeding up, its paws tearing at the street as it chased them with a blood curdling howl. Nathan could hear Ember panting beside him and he swore, looking around. They had to find a way to escape or they were about to be a demon dog's dinner.

Then he spotted it. A U-Haul truck, its back doors open with couches and furniture sprawled on the grass. "Come on!" He shouted, veering to sprint towards it and he could hear Ember at his heels. He vaulted over a table, scrambling up into the truck and spun around, grasping Ember's hand and heaved the girl into the truck. As soon as she was inside he jumped up, grabbing the bars of the doors and slammed them shut.

In that moment, the truck jerked as the hound rammed it, knocking him onto his bottom and scrambled backwards, Ember crawling up against him and they huddled.

They could hear the dog growling and howling from inside, and felt Ember's hand grasping his arm painfully tight. He didn't care. His dark eyes were locked on the door, his body tense, ready to spring.

Eventually, the hound's growls faded away, and there was quiet. The quiet was broken momentarily by a single, blood curdling howl, then all was silent.

Nathan and Ember didn't dare to move a muscle. They clung to one another, their breaths and pants the only thing to be heard, their bodies convulsing with light trembles. After nearly ten minutes, Nathan finally uncoiled himself from Ember, whispering, "I think it's gone."

"We have to go check on them," Ember whispered. She started to stand and Nathan yanked her back down.

"No!" He hissed, looking at her. "We don't know if it's still out there...for all we know, it could be waiting for us. Besides," he hesitated. "I think Mrs. Wilson can take care of herself."

"She's an old lady."

"An old lady that pulled a sword from the cupboard," Nathan said as Ember sat down beside him with a sigh. The truck jerked suddenly and he flew out his hand, grabbing her shoulder to keep her from toppling forward, his body tensing. "We're moving," he said as the truck began to rumble.

"We're supposed to be going to the airport," Ember pointed out. "We need to get to the Academy."

Nathan shrugged helplessly. "I don't know why Mrs. Wilson would want us to go there...and honestly right now, I just want to get away from here. Once we put some distance between us and those dogs, we can head to an airport and get to Colorado." He heaved a long, tired yawn. Now that they were out of danger, his bones melted inside his body and Nathan snuggled into the corner of the truck. "We need to sleep," he murmured, hearing Ember's returning yawn. "I'll keep watch."

"Are you sure?" She asked. Her eyes were already fluttering with exhaustion and he smirked, giving a nod.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

She nodded and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes. On any other occasion, he would have brushed her off. However, after nearly being mauled by massive monster hounds, he really didn't care. He sat still until he heard the steadiness of her breath as she finally fell asleep.

His promise to stay awake was short lived, because his eyes began to droop, his shoulders sagging and with a long sigh, his head slumped up against hers, and he was asleep.