It was a pleasant fantasy, believing for a few moments that Kyros had come home because he'd found he couldn't live without Raslin in his life. Unfortunately, their friendship had never been more than that, and it only took a moment for Raslin to give up on even pretending otherwise and climb from bed, leaving Kyros to sleep in. Kyros usually slept until midway through the morning, though he kept insisting that Raslin should wake him when he rose. Raslin snorted softly as he crossed the loft, his head ducked to keep from bashing it on the rafters. There was no need for Kyros to be dragged out of bed before the crack of dawn. He'd just insist on helping around the village and house, and there was no need for him to do that, either. He needed to rest. Kyros seemed to think they couldn't see the dark circles under Kyros' eyes or the way his clothes were loose, like he'd lost a great deal of weight recently. That Kyros was all muscle and bone only lent to the impression that he'd been running himself ragged for quite some time.
