Room 418, Sunday Morning

[wrongkindofsith]

After she'd made her way back to her room the night before, the second thing Cara had done (the first being getting all the muck cleaned off 'Richard') had been to swap her leathers for the shirt the human-shaped Richard had managed to leave behind during Parent's Weekend and collapsed into a deep, but not dreamless sleep.

During the night, she'd burrowed under the covers and drawn up into a tight ball, her hands and feet tucked away where nothing could get at them. Apart from her rapid breathing, she made no sound as her eyes darted back and forth under closed lids.

You were always my favourite, Cara. That's why I chose you.


[For the puppy who is not actually named Richard.]

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The puppy had been very pleased to be cleaned up by the girl who was his. Refusing to be left behind in the cold air when there was warm snuggling to be had, he'd nosed his way under the covers to fulfill his role as protector.

And at some point in the morning, the furry paws and muzzle pressed against Cara's back had turned into strong arms that reflexively wrapped around her