Sleep came like a reluctant guest these days, slipping in only when Luke's exhausted body could no longer reject it. Ever since the last confrontation on the outskirts of Eldham, he'd been living in a state of constant tension. Every rustle in the bushes, every gust passing through the trees, every distant hoot of some nocturnal animal scraped against his nerves. Nights weren't restful; nights were a slow torture of trying to relax muscles that refused to unclench.
And yet… it was getting easier. Not because the fear was gone, or because he'd suddenly grown used to the wild, but because exhaustion was an unforgiving master. Sooner or later, even terror bows to fatigue.
Luke and Ilyrana had slept out under the open sky for almost a full cycle of the moon by now, and the choice — forced by circumstance — was turning into something that actually benefited their journey more than they expected.
