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It had been a selfish act the first time Miri inserted herself into Gale's bedtime routine.
From the moment she recognized the depth of her affections she had become even more protective of him. Brushed against him to mark him with her scent after each bath, tended to his needs by carefully monitoring his heart and his scent, watched his back, protected him from all angles.
But it became difficult to trance on the other side of camp. After he defied Mystra's command deep under Moonrise, after Miri noted the subtle pushes and nudges the feckless goddess wielded to pull him toward Her whims... it became impossible.
Miri had been plagued by a constant fear in the shadow cursed lands. Worried She would do something drastic. Show up to punish him, rebuke him, steal him away.
The thought of it made Miri all too eager to test her fangs in divine flesh. She will fight tooth and nail if need be. Let the little goddess learn how the forces of nature train for any foe.
That fear was what drove Miri to end each day in lupine form, laying in front of his tent, hardly trancing. She watched the cloth entrance and the edges of camp - ears on a swivel attending to the sounds of the shadow curse around them.
This close, it did not take long to notice the quirks of Gale's sleeping habits.
The talking is endearing. Usually whatever he has been reading or working on bleeds into his dreaming - and often she is treated to a sleepy, mumbled lecture on some theory or other.
But the nightmares that plague him worry her. When he sweats and thrashes in his sleep, soft frightful sounds of pain or anguish spilling into the night air, the mark on his chest will glow.
Miri learns quickly that her presence can help to soothe the fears. When she is closer, he is less restless.
She started by just poking her head into his tent. First to check on him, then to watch over him. Slowly, each night she wound up further inside. Eventually she would enter the tent at the first sign of distress and lay down to press against his side.
Then she discovers he sleeps better with weight on top of him - something about it keeps the nightmares at bay. She wonders if perhaps Tara would sleep atop his chest at home in their tower those many months of isolation. Or even as he grew up, facing the tribulations of a young scholar of considerable expectations.
So when he falls asleep, she enters his tent, and lays her lupine head on his chest or back, watching his eyes for signs of distress behind closed lids. And instead she catches mostly snores and soft smiles. And sometimes, the sleepy babbling - about spells, or recipes, or nothing at all. Occasionally confessions of love or romantic verbiage. All of it delights her, and she much prefers it to the gasping shock of his frightful visions.
It is not something Gale ever asked for, and he might not even realize she does it every night. But Miri takes a smug satisfaction in being able to protect her wizard, her heart, from danger both awake and asleep. She quite delights in the way he wraps himself around her legs or muzzle in his sleepy movements that curl toward her warmth.
Many mornings she wakes to find she has shifted back - opening her eyes to find she is laying curled up in Gale's arms with her head still pillowed on his chest. Before their confessions she would carefully extract herself from his arms and tent before he woke.
But after?
After, Miri luxuriates in every soft moment.