It was in that hour before the first light of dawn that Miroku stood his watch. That silent hour where everything seems still and never a sound is heard. It had been a calm shift thus far, and he was standing leaning against a tree, facing away from the camp.
Careful to stir not a leaf in her approach, Sango walked up beside him. He turned to her, his smile faintly visible in the light of the waning moon. She smiled back, and gently turned him to face her, running her hand down his left arm to take his hand in hers. Slowly and with deliberateness, she caught his eyes and held them with her own gaze as she brought his hand forward and placed it low over her belly, holding it there under both of hers.
His eyes widened, and she smiled and nodded in response to his unasked question. In one smooth movement he took her into his arms and buried his face in her soft and fragrant hair, breathing her in and weeping tears, both of joy and of sorrow, for he knew the terrible burden he had placed upon her, this woman whom he loved.
As far as I am concerned, this is a sntand-alone scene, independant of any other story. ::laughs:: It must be the shortest thing I've ever written, and I got the inspiration for it at 4 in the morning while walking the deserted streets. As to how the two of them got together, I have not a clue, but the imagery of the piece appealed to me, so I wrote it, and I only hope you people like it!
Amaya
