She was asleep.
Asleep on her own, without the smoke. Breathing peacefully.
He watched her warily; he wanted some sleep of his own, but he didn't want to leave her here, should she awaken.
She was here, she was trapped. But that didn't mean she had to be alone.
She would never be, not if he could help it. A silent trade from day one in Doranelle- never leave the other without comfort.
Tiny, quiet breaths from her- when was the last time she had rested in a slumber not smoke-induced?
She stirred, and every instinct started screaming.
She halted where the iron wouldn't let her move.
A tug before her unconscious mind realized she was chained.
A whimper. He tried to move. Could not.
And then she started to scream.
He knew by now no amount of calling for her would wake her. No amount of crying her name. It would only serve to punish them both.
No, better to let her wake up on her own. No matter how much it hurt, how much he wanted to scream, or sob-
Her eyes snapped open, and the iron coffin shook. Did she know her own power, did she know how much the coffin threatened to move, if only an inch?
He doubted it. And he wasn't about to be the one to give her false hope.
She turned her head once, muffled cries through the mask. Twice.
Wild-eyed and panicked, she began. "Did he-"
That haunted look in her Ashryver eyes, whatever she had seen or felt-
He leapt up from where he kneeled, shook his head wildly.
She didn't look convinced.
Again.
Again.
Until the air vibrated with his unspoken promise. No. No. No.
She relaxed finally, and only then did he add his final signal. He barked twice.
"Two," she breathed, an agreement.
He blinked twice, slowly, delicately.
She blinked back, a single time, and did not open again.