Until She Wakes Up

He watches her and waits patiently by her side.

He climbed up the side of her mountain, knowing that she would be in her most favorite sanctuary, the one closest to the heavens. 

He knew the moment he woke up, that she had fallen into her slumber once again. 
It was sporadic and the length always varied. 

Sometimes he worried that she wouldn’t wake ever again. He worried that she would become one with her mountain and dissolve into the earth. 

He never voiced his worries, but she knew. 
She knew everything about him, as if she could read his mind. 

“Iztaccihuatl?” He muttered her name, enjoying the way it rolled of his tongue. He would never get tired of saying her name. 

Silence was his only answer, just as he had expected. 
He walked deeper into the sanctuary and finally found her laying on a cushion table. This year it was decorated in green cloth, an offering from one of the nobles. 

She looked so peaceful and like always, beautiful. 

Popocatepetl stepped forward and took some of the flowers decorating the sacred room and began to, one by one, place them around Iztaccihuatl. 

He knew she loved the smell of flowers and he hoped that it kept the bad dreams at bay. 

Popocatepetl knelt down next to her, eyes never leaving her stilled form. 

He would wait there, by her side, never moving, until she woke up.