Come morning, the heavy mist of yearning. She, alone, bound by thrashed blankets. There would be the remnants of a fire still shimmering from the wood stove. Her hair, thick, would be fanned across both pillows. The scent of his sweat and desire were captured in the feathers. Would she wake up with a smile, as she usually did, or would the moment turn when she realized she was as alone as he? The desire, though, roamed fiercely across the space between them.