Night settled in like a ghost, bringing a chill with it as it wrapped its arms around the house, the room, the bed, until it felt as if it was holding the two wolves alone. As Beppe continued to sing he watched his son's eyes drift closed, observing as the little fidgety movements that Otto was so prone to slowed to a stop. Once the boy had drifted to the world of dreams - or nightmares, as did Beppe - the elder wolf was gripped by thoughts. There was a transition, or at least he imagined one, between the last breath one took while they were awake and the first one taken after sleep set in. He watched Otto breathe, and felt very much alone. The cold ghost of night clutched him alone, now, and despite the bit of warmth at his chest he was unable to fight it off. Sleep would come to him, as well, but he didn't know when. Waiting was always the worst part, the time between Otto's sleep and his own always feeling empty and unreal, as if he had stepped into a strange world. It was not pleasant at all.
Despite the pain of waiting the wolf made it to the morning. It was a strange night, filled with dark skies and rushing waters. Otto's humming seeped into the dreams, and as Empusa rose vertically from the waters she was singing along, the words freezing like ice around the male's heart. Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas, she gurgled through a mouthful of water and mist, over and over and over. Beppe felt like he was choking, like his organs were trying to all escape his body by way of his mouth at the same time. It was a tightening, painful, horrible feeling, and just as he began to choke on water as well he woke up, eyes opening suddenly. His heart was beating faster than it was supposed to, the orange light of morning was blinding. As he realized where he was, piecing things together as he did every morning, he exhaled and let his eyes wander to the puppy that was stretching himself out. The song seemed less horrible escaping from his tiny body than the waterlogged one that had risen in his dreams.
It was partially relief that put the small smile on his face, a smile that was rough around the edges but at least existent. Mostly it was the innocent humming of the boy and the little hobble he was doing around the bed, the appreciation of still having something he could hold on to. Without Otto and the tiny bit of hope of finding the rest of his family (quickly fading), the wolf would be gone as well.
After a few moments of watching the boy, Beppe said quietly, "Good morning, Toto."