Once Cerys had finished her letter, leaving it atop her blankets where she was certain Cynwrig would find it, she knelt beside her son and gently shook his shoulder.
"Dalwyn," she whispered softly. "Wake up, sweetheart. We need to go."
The boy stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he looked up at his mother with confusion.
"Mama?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Is it morning already?"
"Not quite," Cerys said quietly, helping him sit up. "But we need to leave now, before everyone else wakes up. Can you be very quiet for me?"
Dalwyn nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He always did his best to do as his mother told him, and even though he didn't understand why they were leaving so early, he didn't ask any questions.
