The flapping of the tent in the wind roused Trey. He peeped out from under his blankets. It was still dark. The chill of the air cut into his cheeks and he pulled the blankets back over his head. There was another gust of wind. The wind cut through the fabric of the tent and Trey felt the chill through his blankets. He began to draw his knees up for warmth, but stopped when they hit the recumbent body of Jason lying beside him.
“My Lord?” muttered Jason, half awake.
“Nothing Jason. Apologies.”
Jason’s breathing fell back into a slow regular pace. Trey rolled over and drew his knees up to his chest. He was cold this night. He was not used to being so chilled.
His leg felt wet, and he wondered how he had lain in a puddle. Then he remembered that his sword laid beside him. He now partially laid on top of it, and the frigidness held by the metal now cut through his clothes. He meant to sit up and adjust the sword, but instead drove his elbow into the hilt, striking that nerve that always causes agony when it’s hit. Trey bit his lip and breathed deeply while waiting for the pain to subside.
As he lay, he heard the chattering of teeth in front of him.
“Hanna?” he whispered.
She groaned in response.
“You are cold?” Trey said.
“Freezing.”
“Aye.”
It was quiet for a while, then Hanna’s teeth resumed their chattering.
Trey shuddered in the cold. He stretched his legs out, then drew them up once more. His thigh ached, as was now quite familiar. It reminded him of another cold night he had spent with Hanna.
It seemed as it was ages ago, yet it had only been a few short months. She was a curious soul, this woman. She made him nervous, yet he trusted her. He felt bad that she was so awfully cold. He rested his cheek on the hilt of his sword and revisited that night. That horrible, horrible night.
And he slept.
Penny Higgins - Storyteller • Artist • Scientist 