When they had finished eating Anina lay down, and Mercer covered her with the blanket. She smiled up at him.
"Good night, Anina."
"Good night, my friend Ollie."
She closed her eyes, snuggling closer under the blanket with a contented little sigh. Mercer put on his jacket and sat down beside her, his chin cupped in his hand. It seemed colder now. His trousers were thin, his legs felt numb and stiff from his recent exertion.
He sat quiet, staring at the sleeping girl. She was very beautiful and very sweet, lying there with her golden hair framing her face, her little head pillowed on her arms, a portion of one blue‑feathered wing peeping out from under the blanket. All at once Mercer bent over and kissed her lightly, brushing her lips with his, as one kisses a sleeping child.
She stirred, then opened her eyes and smiled up at him again.
"You cold, Ollie," she said accusingly. She lifted an edge of the blanket. "Here—you sleep, too."
He stretched himself beside her, and she flung a corner of the blanket over him; and thus, like two children lost in the woods and huddled together for warmth under a fallen log, they slept.