Nearly two hours later, he's tending a stew on the stove when her footfalls reach his ears, and before she reaches the kitchen, he can tell she is rested and clean and in better spirits than before.
Even with sadness lingering on the edge of her scent.
"This will be finished shortly," he murmurs, covering the pot and not looking back. "There is tea on the table."
There's no answer, but thin arms suddenly slide around his middle, and he feels her lean into his back. "Miko?"
"Thank you." Her breath shudders, and she leans more heavily. "Just…thank you."
