A Vigil of Dawncare

The chilly windowpane gnawed on what little warmth leaked from the fireplace into the room. Shadows danced on the walls from the flickering light of the candles struggling valiantly against the dark night.
In an overstuffed, oversized armchair near the heart, Hildegarde Crowle cradled a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Wrapped in a thick quilt with squares made by her students as a gift for the help she'd given them over the years, Hilda starred into her mug and sighed.
Anxiety howled through the night, stealing more of the precious heat from the long night. The words of her foster mother, Amalia Henry, echoed through her mind. "The dawncare visits us all from time to time. Tend it carefully. It stretches the night into an eternity and keeps you up like a crying baby. Cradle it until it goes to sleep."
Hilda sighed again, deflating a little more than she did the last time. Anxiety swirled in her mind and soured her stomach like she was on a ship on rough seas. She used to be bold, adventuring into the wild and defending her people from the creatures haunting the dark forests. Her bones ached from the many wounds she had sustained over the years, and her muscles twinged, and fingers hurt.
The pain wasn't the source of her anxiety. Duty, responsibility, and the expectations of others weighed on her. Like them, she remembered when she was young and full of energy, when she could push through her own discomfort to achieve her goals, most of which were foolish and at the very least not as urgent as she thought. The years and those adventures took a toll on her body and mind.
These days, she barely had the energy to take care of herself, yet so many expected her to take care of others.
Hilda sipped her hot chocolate. The anxiety broke for a second as she savored the rich elixir. It didn't get rid of her unease, but it interrupted the flow for a moment.
Her tuxedo aelucat, Ebonwhisker, sauntered into the room and stretched in front of the hearth.
Hilda's shoulders hunching slightly, and a dark sensation pulled at her gut. Why couldn't she live her life with the same nonchalance as her pet feline dragon? It wasn't that she wanted to ignore or neglect everyone else in her life. She really wanted to join the quest to find Kaerndal Fort. Tales of the Shadow Fox Throne filled her with glee, and the mystery of what happened to the Knights of the Shade Fox filled her free time. The very notion Asa Woolahan might have located the lost fort took her breath away, but she feared she didn't have the stamina for such an adventure anymore.
Ebby strolled up to the foot of the chair and stretched out her wings while reaching toward Hilda with her paw.
Hilda tapped on her lap and Ebby hopped up. After taking two turned around her lap, the aelucat laid down and crackled like roaring fire. The sound reverberated through Hilda's body, easing some of the tensions in her body.
She sat her hot chocolate down on the drake cherry wood table beside her warm, honey hive vanilla wax candle, then scratched Ebby behind the ear. The aelucat's fur warmed as she crackled. Hilda smiled.
If only she could spend her time doing nothing but petting Ebby and resting in the peace of a happy aelucat, but even these times didn't last. At some point, an ashwing will land on the windowsill and Ebby will run off to chase it.
Sleepless nights don't lead to solutions, but dawncare besets everyone from time to time. Like a vigil mourning a world or life that never was or will be, or a fear of a tomorrow that might be. It is rarely for the world that is.
Hilda sighed, but this time to let go of her anxiety. She couldn't toss it to the floor, but she stopped holding them like she did her hot chocolate or her aelucat. Picking up her hot chocolate, she welcomed the warmth of her everwarm mug.
Between the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and the rhythmic crackling of the aelucat on her lap, Hilda leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her hot chocolate.
Pastel purple and pink soaked into the eastern sky as the dawn neared. The daystar peaked over the horizon and glittered as it heralded the rising sun.
Hilda sipped her chocolate and watched the sky. She made it through the night and nothing happened. All her fears and anxieties fled from the light to haunt her from the shadows of her own mind, but her vigil had ended.
Tiredness set in and wrapped around her like her quilt. On the morrow, she would have to decide what was best for her to do. She finished her chocolate and petted Ebby's soft fur. Her vigil has ended. It was time to sleep.