May sleeps, cradled in my arms.
Her head nestled against my shoulder and her hands clenching tightly onto my clothing as if she's afraid I'll disappear.
I pull the blanket up around her further to insulate her against the chilly night air, and to comfort her as much as possible.
She's had an exciting day. I think she enjoyed helping Coll and Katheryne in the kitchen, and being doted on by those three.
Yet when she falls asleep in my arms, she ends up clinging like this.
She doesn't always cling like this anymore.
I suspect even May wouldn't know why she's clinging this time and not last time.
But I dutifully soothe the sleeping child anyway, rocking her in her sleep and stroking her hair, keeping the blankets cozy around us in the bed.
The town has long since grown silent as night deepens, but sleep does not come easily to me.
A bundle of May clutching to me so tightly makes it harder to sleep than when she peacefully dozed in my lap just earlier.
