The days of that next week were uneventful - mostly fishing and walking and romping about in the water without a care in the world - yet they passed quickly, at least to Bran's reckoning.
Some days he woke with Misha still coiled around him and some days he woke alone, though with the knowing that the loong was not far away, but either way, he always began the day with one important ritual: scratching a mark onto a smooth stone he'd picked up the second morning.
After his experience in the warped space of The Unity's headquarters, Bran had gotten a little paranoid about keeping time and that paranoia served him well as he could say with relative confidence how long he and Misha had been nesting on this spot of beach.
