47. In the Dead of Night
Really, she seems even fiercer as she lies sleeping in his arms. There is a hopeless quality to her body, the curious slanting of her twitching fingers and the sudden deepening of her breath as Roy shifts to lie more comfortably alongside her.
Her hair is cast over her face and Roy moves to brush it away from her frail eyelashes, lest it wake her.
The graceful slouch of her spine as she moves in her sleep is the only vulnerable and human characteristic that he can identify.
Right now it is quiet and her sleep is unnatural, focused; in the morning, no trace will remain of her wild presence.