The Morning After

Soft. Warm. Comfortable.

Alene rolled over in the bed, wound her arm around the pillow and buried her face in it. Too early.

The bed swayed slightly. Back and forth – back, and forth. Somewhere in the distance, a dull thumping sound accompanied the motion. Why was her bed moving?

A spike of worry bore into her stomach, and Alene stiffened where she lay. She didn't have a bed. The last few nights she'd slept in her seat on the train. Where was she now? This wasn't a train. The motion was similar, but the sounds were all wrong.

Alene opened her eyes.

She was in some kind of wooden cabin – a swaying wooden cabin – definitely not a train. Her bed hung in ropes from a ring in the ceiling. From where she lay, she saw a big wardrobe, and along the far wall some kind of counter or workbench ran. Above the counter, a small square window let in the pale morning sun. Definitely too early. Outside the window, the branch of some tree swung by – also moving to the rhythm of that dull thumping.

What was going on? Who's bed was this? What did she do last night?

Groaning, Alene grimaced. The bar. She'd just meant to have a pint and ask about a good place to stay the night. Her connecting train wouldn't be there until the morning, and sleeping in the waiting room at the train station was really the last option. Even now in winter, she'd rather sleep in the street.

What time was it anyway? Alene growled – a low rumbling sound, deep within her chest. She'd probably missed the bloody train.

There had been some guys at the bar. A bunch of local lads. They'd been so fascinated with her brown skin and her big red hair. Clearly, not many people from her part of the world came through here. It had almost been a bit cute.

Maybe she'd gone home with one of them?

That short guy, with the black shirt and the glasses, he'd been kind of nice. What was his name again? Was he around here somewhere? Sure, the bed was empty, but maybe he'd gone to get breakfast or something. She wouldn't mind that – and breakfast would be nice too.

Alene grinned to herself. It wasn't like she had anywhere she had to be. She could take the next train, or the one after. Better make that the next one. It wouldn't do to be getting stuck out here – some forgotten plainsdweller trading post in the middle of nowhere.

Really though, she must have drunk a lot. She'd not even gotten her clothes off – still in her jeans and t-shirt. Chuckling to herself, her smile grew even wider. Poor guy must have been so disappointed.

When was the last time she'd gotten so drunk she'd lost her memories? Must have been back in university. For sure it hadn't happen since she turned. These days she could handle alcohol so much better, and she didn't even get hangovers anymore. Some water would be nice though.

She healed much faster these days.

Her smile faded, and little jaws of worry bit into her stomach and began to gnaw at it. What if they'd hurt her, or done things? Alene presses her eyes shut, trying to keep the fear away. Must not wake the beast. Would she even know? She felt fine – physically.

Sure, she was strong, but you never knew. She'd been drunk and they'd outnumbered her. They could have done anything.

It didn't matter that she felt fine. It meant nothing. After a night's sleep she'd be pretty much back to normal, no matter what. She never had any cuts or bruises to show these days.

She'd never know.

Alene curled up in a fetal position and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. No crying. Control. Keep calm. Don't wake the beast. Her stomach roiled and her throat tightened and she fought to breathe.