Nurturing
He was surrounded by sheets, by soft, warm blankets and duvets, his head nestled by pillows. He stretched softly in a kind of half-sleep, his muscles tense and tight, making each movement uncomfortable, not even the soft cocoon of warmth easing him. He gripped the sheets and turned over, in a vain attempt to find comfort, lost within a swirl of half-dreams and half-sleep.
Somewhere within in haze of vain attempts and twisting, he felt a hand against his brow. The touch felt warmer than the blanket's around him, it was light and deft. It was familiar, it was comfort, and it was home. The fur tickled his brow and beak, and he heard the quiet chuckle of amusement at his sleepy attempt to shake off the itch.
Each moment, he sank deeper into sleep, into a kind of blanketing peace, giving him rest from the stresses of life which clung to him even in slumber.
"Shh….rest, Leonardo, rest. I will always watch over you."
The words were barely a breath, barely a whisper on the wind. But the wind was warm, and cocooned him in comfort. His grip on the sheets relaxed, as if some divine permission for sleep had been granted. He mumbled something, but his sleepy mind could not grasp the words, as he tumbled into the elusive rest, safe in the knowledge he was watched over.
He woke to the icy air on his face, the warmth a fading memory. He woke with the first good rest in as long as he could remember.
Absently, Leonardo passed a hand across his brow, letting his hand drop, his features softening as he shut his eyes.
"Arigato, Sensei."
A quiet ache hit his heart, because Leonardo knew that he had come from heaven not as an angel, not as a teacher, but as a father.