Sylvia lay sprawled out on her pillow, looking across at the other bed in the motel room. She listened closely. Cliff's windstorm breathing was even, slow. Peaceful. By then he was fast asleep, she gauged.
The only other sound in the room was the low volume of the TV and the occasional sound of movement outside the room. The thudding footsteps of humans passed in front of the door every so often, but the do not disturb sign posted on the other side kept the room safe from housekeeping.
She sat up, flexing her hands in front of her. The magic exhaustion had ebbed, but a bit of stiffness still remained. A power nap had done her wonders.
Her bed was empty. Jon was out, fueling up the car and picking up food. He'd insisted that she stay behind and recover rather than be toted around and jostled. It had been an intense hunt, that was for sure. Jon had gotten out largely unscathed while Cliff had received a nasty gash on his upper arm.
Gasher. Sylvia shuddered. What a fitting n