Perhaps We'll Meet Another Day

Unfamiliar Places

Law fully opened the curtain door dividing the two rooms, ensuring he had a full view of the whole living area to keep watch, and dropped his pack beside him on the floor. They'd been searched thoroughly when their weapons had been confiscated, but after deeming that there was nothing else dangerous in their possession, the rest of their things had been returned.

His boots were deposited on the floor and he lowered himself onto the bed, testing the softness of the mattress. Expecting to feel the sharp dig of metal springs poking against his backside, he was pleasantly relieved to find that it was more durable and comfortable than he'd first thought. At least it didn't appear to creak with every shift, as Shachi's had done. That was a plus. After a moment, he let himself lay flat on his back and released a reluctant sigh of approval.

He closed his eyes, shifting his shoulders until they weren't so hunched beneath his weight, and moved his arm to rest beneath his head, the other set easily next to his thigh. Breathing evening out, the darkness inside gently coaxing him to rest easy, Law almost forgot about assigning the watch for the night. Damn him if he wasn't going to make sure they weren't murdered in their sleep. Cracking open an eye, he raised his head a few inches to see over the foot of the bed.

"Penguin? Shachi?" He called, waiting several moments after but receiving no answer. Frowning, he sat up and looked over at the other beds, noticing that they weren't moving a muscle. He almost panicked, fearing they'd been poisoned or something similar, but a soft snore on Shachi's part turned that fear into amusement, a grin sliding in place as he realized they'd fallen asleep in a matter of minutes.

Shaking his head ruefully, Law let his head rest against the pillow again, staring up through half-lidded eyes at the ceiling. It was good that the others were able to find sleep so quickly, but he had little faith his own overactive mind would let him do the same. It would seem he'd be the only watch that night.

Outside, he could still hear people talking mutedly, a stray laugh or shout catching his ear on occasion. A reminder that they weren't alone. And as much as it gave some sort of reassurance of having human company instead of undead, the thought of strangers didn't ease all of his worries.

Not surprising, Law had a rough time getting to sleep at all.

As it turned out, the guards they'd seen on top of the barricade at the gate would circle the entire encampment every so often, and that meant walking along the roof of each one so they could survey the area all around them, their boots thumping heavily and rather loudly against the metal of the overhead.

The first time this happened, Law had shot out of the bed in search of his sword, cursing when he couldn't find it. Only after the man above coughed or cleared his throat did he remember where he was and who had made the noise. Thankfully, he hadn't made it through the process of waking the others up before he calmed down enough to lay back in the bed once more.

Even when his heavy eyelids had nearly convinced him it was safe enough to give into the sleep he so desperately needed, some noise would put him on edge again, or he'd begin overthinking to the point of resisting sleep entirely, just to keep watch. His skin buzzed with the preparation to be on his feet and rushing to Penguin and Shachi should the need arise. It was an exhausting but familiar routine he'd engrained into his head, as they'd often have to rely on it while keeping watch in the woods at night.

All through the night, his sleep would be disturbed or shaken off, and eventually light began to filter in through the blinds over the small window, the cabin gradually growing brighter and brighter until he could see the interior in more detail than he'd been able to before.

Some time after, he could hear the sound of doors opening nearby, and he assumed this was the other group members waking up for the day. Voices grew louder, but didn't quite reach the level of yelling.