Sudden thoughts

She was asleep again. This seemed to happen to him, with her, a lot. He sighed and carefully pulled her off of him. She didn't stir, just breathed a little more deeply. Her head lolled onto her shoulder and he looked at Friend, who was walking over to snuffle her hair. He gave a satisfied huff and bonked his head against Demaren's ("Hey!") before laying down expectantly. Demaren, rubbing his head playfully, yawned suddenly himself. He relaxed onto Friend's back, as they usually did, but instead of laying her beside him, he kept her in the crook of his arm before folding his wing over them. She snoozed on, small and delicate.
He smiled to himself and leaned down. She smelled vaguely of camp fire, but mostly of a soft sort of flower. He pressed his lips to corner of her mouth, then lay his head beside hers and slept.

- - -

When he awoke, he fully expected to see her sleeping beside him, as usual. But there was an empty space where Ashling had laid. Demaren sat up quickly, first concerned that the traveling whoever-they-were's had come along and stolen her from him again. But a rustling and clatter to the right quickly eased his mind. Especially when he saw Ashling was the one making the clattering sounds. She was mixing something in one of his bowls. No fire was to be seen (he felt concerned when he thought of her trying to a) find fire wood, and b) starting a fire) so he assumed she was making some sort of cold meal.
"Ashling?"
She looked up suddenly, her eyes glittering and awake.
"Good morning--uh, afternoon?"
He looked up, automatically, to gage the sun. It was lingering above them, though not directly. Demaren would have safely guessed it was afternoon as well. He pushed himself to his feet, and stretched tall. His wings reached upwards, feathers spreading like toes. A shudder rushed over his body as all the muscles tensed and relaxed.
"Good afternoon." He responded pleasantly. He wandered over to peer into the bowl over her shoulder. He felt extraordinarily playful! He tiptoed over to her, and leaned in closer than he usually would have, carefully monitoring her reactions. His feather earrings tickled her cheek as it fell. "What are you making?"
"Some of that mushy stuff." Her face stayed strangely calm, which irritated him slightly. Not even her voice wavered. He pulled back and pulled the water bag from the gear.
"Okay. I'm going to fill up the water." He flew upward, looking for a fresh water source. Once found (a large river), he shot to it. The time in the water was spent in thought. Maybe she didn't notice how close he'd stood. Perhaps she was... very absorbed in cooking. Or maybe she didn't think of him like that.
He froze.
He could feel the muscles in his face knot up into a frown. Like what? There was no way to think of him. Whatever his brain had come up with for her to feel, he certainly didn't feel himself or even want to know! He felt suddenly flustered. He ran one hand through his hair, roughly rubbing his scalp and quietly exclaiming his confusion. Then he threw the water bag to the shore and leapt into the air, looped upwards, and dove under water at a smooth angle.
It was very cold and fresh. It coursed around him, like the altitude wind. He pinned his wings to his back and just swam.
What did he want her to think of him? What did he think of her? True, she was very pretty. And sweet. She had a little fire in her that he found captivating--was that the right word?! But she was always getting into trouble. She also kept so many secrets from him. And what about her family? What if they didn't like him?
He had surfaced and was resting by a rock, only the upper half of his head above the water. He blew bubbles with his mouth and frowned.
What did it matter? Any of it. She probably thought he was a winged freak. A scary one. He did kill someone... He scares her when he flies her around--which is the best way to travel--and probably acts way too over protective.
"Stupid." He mumbled and dove down again.