Aramith couldn't sleep the rest of the night.
His blanket felt damp from the cold, but his neck was sticky with sweat. The night air pressed against his skin like wet cloth, and every time he closed his eyes, the sound of her screaming sliced back through his head.
His heart would quicken each time, breathing became heavy, and though the wind was cool, he found himself sweating more.
Lynnor didn't sleep either. But unlike Aramith, who tried to sleep but couldn't, she decided to keep watch over them. Especially Mozrael. What if she suddenly woke up again?
For a carefree person who always did as she pleased, this side of her was different. She was very worried about them—even pitied them. She watched how Aramith struggled to get some sleep, but pretended to be asleep.
He had his back to her and Mozrael, but Lynnor noticed when he trembled in his restlessness and forced himself not to look back at Mozrael.
