Talk to nice sleep.

Part 2.

Spring.

Season of the Garnet Crown.

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The dawn breeze brings the sense of creosote and primrose through the gently swaying curtain.

Harlow inhales the morning air, letting its energy fill his being.

He combs his fingers through his hair and checks the dim reflection of his face and bare torso in the yurts floor-length mirror.

Three months on this sunny mesa have made his skin a darker bronze than ever before.

Old scars stand out in pale relief, especially the raised slash just under his ribs on the

right side, a memento from a stab wound years before, and he has a weird bruise on his neck.

That's new.

Stifling a yawn, he pulls on a shirt.

Zeke!

Hey, Zeke, he says.

Time to get up!

Harlow's roommate snorts and rolls onto his side,

scratching his hairy stomach with one large

hand, then begins to snore again.

Harlow picks up one of Ezekiel's boots and chucks it across the room.

Ezekiel grunts as it bounces off his mattress and looks up, sleepy and annoyed.

...