Coen nodded softly, pulling the blanket close to himself like he used to do on those cold winter nights in Laslea.
โ๐๐ข๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ญ. ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฉ๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ญ๐ฒ ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐, ๐ง๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐ฆ๐๐ญ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ง๐ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐ ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ก๐๐ซ๐ ๐'๐ฆ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ-
๐ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฉ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฌ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ฆ๐๐ค๐๐ฌ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐๐ข๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ญ ๐'๐ฏ๐ ๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐ฆ๐๐ญ.โ
His eyes move towards the window, keeping an eye on the descending light of the sun.
-
โ๐๐กโต ๐๐ก๐๐ง๐ค ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ, ๐ ๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ซ๐๐๐ข๐๐ญ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ญ.โ
The dawnwalker wraps the blanket around himself, letting out a small yawn.
โ๐๐ฒ ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐๐ง. . .๐ฐ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฌ ๐๐?โ