It continues to rain.

She's curled up in her sleeping bag, staring blankly at the flames in the center of the room. Inuyasha retired an hour before and is softly breathing where he sleeps near Miroku.

Something in her feels broken. Sesshoumaru has never not come. And they've never gone this long without seeing each other since they started sharing books.

Closing her eyes against the tears that threaten, she pulls her bag up to her chin and tries to ignore the suffocating feeling in her chest so she can sleep.

That all changes when silk brushes across her cheek.