That night, Peach slept on Kelpie's pillow, nestled against his hair. Her feathers rose and fell with her breathing, soft and warm.
Kelpie watched her for a long time. Her tiny beak was tucked under her wing, and her small body looked so peaceful and so at home that he almost believed she would stay forever.
But he knew better.
He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, warm and golden. Kelpie blinked awake, his hand reaching instinctively for his pillow.
Peach was gone.
Her feathers were gone. Her warmth was gone. The small indent where she had slept was already fading, the pillow fluffing back into shape.
Kelpie sat up and looked around the room, under the bed, behind the curtain, by the window. Nothing.
Rocky, who was already awake and arranging his stones in a perfect circle, looked up. "The bird?"
Kelpie's voice was small. "Yes."
