And then when Lilah felt she could no longer close her eyes to sleep, she decided to go to the field where Oscar slept.
It was late, the night was full, and the grass gave her just enough comfort.
The night air carried the scent of pine and faint traces of the river that ran beyond the castle walls.
Lilah rested her head against Oscar's thick fur, her fingers idly brushing along his coat as she whispered into the silence. He was the most comfortable pillow, and before she knew it—
"Sometimes I think I talk too much," she murmured, her voice lilting with the weight of both laughter and fatigue. "Maybe it's become a habit, but if I don't speak, I feel like I'm being silenced."
The words that escaped her lips left a heavy thud in her head.
"And if I don't speak, who will?" She stroked her hands across his fur. "If the people keep waiting for someone perfect to lead them, they'll wait forever. Perhaps… perhaps it's alright that I'm not perfect. Perhaps it's enough to try, right?"
