At dawn, the light broke differently. It didn't pierce through the trees with its usual pale gold - it glowed from within them, as though the trunks had drunk in the night's secrets and now exhaled radiance. The clearing shimmered softly with dew that sparkled like tiny stars, and the leaves above barely stirred, as if not to wake the sacred stillness they all now belonged to.
Jude woke slowly, his body warm beneath the tangle of limbs and blankets. Lucy's leg was still hooked around his, her breath slow and even. Emma's hand rested over his heart, and Rose's fingers were woven through his hair, possessive and tender even in sleep. Around him, the others shifted gently, sighing, stirring, not waking fully but drawn toward consciousness like petals slowly turning toward the sun.
