“…Father….”
At the small murmur, Owen turned to look at the boy sitting beside him.
Morres had been dozing off, hugging the lamp for a while, and now he was faintly frowning his eyebrows as if dreaming something.
‘Is his sleeping place uncomfortable?’
As Owen moved the luggage rolling at his feet to the side, the boy opened his mouth again.
“…So seamlessly… perception… if avoided….”
…Should I wake him up?
While he was pondering, Masain, as if guessing his thoughts, spoke up.
“It’s fine. He’s just talking in his sleep.”
“Talking in his sleep? Isn’t he having a nightmare or something?”
“Probably not. He does this all the time. Though it’s the first time I’ve seen him talk in his sleep during a nap. He doesn’t usually take naps in the first place.”
So it’s not an uncommon occurrence.
Somewhat relieved, Owen took off his worn cloak and draped it over the boy’s shoulders, and Morres muttered again, like a sigh.
“So, please stop a little… you old man….”
While Edith and Bartosa were walking endlessly along the valley, the sun had set, and a dusky evening had arrived.
Hmm hmm hmm, hmm hmm~
Edith, who had become lively thanks to the divine power, occasionally hummed a tune.
But in Bartosa’s case, the situation was a bit different; he was glancing at Edith with mournful eyes, sweating profusely.
‘Hey… woman, it’s…