The days were warm and long, this far into the summer; the kind of days that were perfect for laying around and doing whatever they wanted. Hunter's father seemed to thrive on routine and structure, unable or unwilling to let his children pursue their own past times. Left to their own devices, the twins had been able to thrive, out in their forest, or for Hunter, inside his books.
That was where he found himself on this particular summer day, sprawled out in a patch of sunlight, on the hardwood of their bedroom floor. The warmth had caused his eyes to drift from the page and his head to nod, as he fell asleep. His sister's voiced pulled him back to his pleasant surroundings.
"Here," he said, putting the book down beside him, pages open against the wood to hold his place. He turned toward her, smiling softly.
"You look lovely and cool. It's starting to get a bit too warm."