The next morning, as the first streaks of gold and pink split the horizon, the lodge’s resident guinea fowls began their morning chorus, harsh, chattering calls that cut through the fading hues of dawn. Their cries were sharp and rhythmic, a mix of clucks, whistles, and grating squawks that rose and fell like an urgent conversation.

The sound spread through the savannah, rattling the still air, waking birds from their roosts and stirring all, humans and animals alike, from their sleep.  It was restless, insistent, as if the birds were gossiping about the coming day, their calls bouncing off trees and rolling over the dry grass.

Wings flapped noisily, feathers ruffling as they darted between the underbrush, kicking up dust in their wake. Their calls were unrelenting, a natural alarm clock that spared no one—reminding every creature within earshot that the sun had risen, and the world was awake once more.

A particularly loud squawk finished piercing the stillness, and Bette let out a muffled groan. “Those damn birds,” she muttered sleepily, voice thick with sleep.

Next to her, Tina turned her head slightly, her lips curving into a drowsy smile. “They’re just telling us to wake up.”

“They can mind their own business.” Bette pulled the blanket up over her head, trying to block out the racket, but the guinea fowls were relentless.

Tina sighed, stretching languidly beneath the sheets before turning onto her side to face the vet. “Come on,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her wife’s bare shoulder. “Don’t start the day in a bad mood.”

Bette peeked out from under the blanket, her dark curls a tangled mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. “I hate those birds.”

Tina laughed, tugging at the covers playfully. “They’re part of the morning package. You, me, and the loudest alarm clock in Africa.”

Bette groaned again but let Tina pull her closer, their bodies warm against the crisp morning air.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled, shifting closer, tucking her face into the crook of Tina’s neck.

Tina chuckled, her breath warm against Bette’s hair. “You always say that.”

Bette hummed, her lips brushing against Tina’s collarbone as she spoke. “And yet, here we are.” She tilted her head back just enough to meet Tina’s gaze, dark eyes still laced with sleep, but full of something softer, something that made Tina’s heart squeeze just a little.