Chapter 592: Tent Arrangements

They spent most of the first day walking in a comfortable near-silence.

The coast road unwound ahead of them through country that had not quite decided whether it wanted to be forest or farmland, fields giving way to copses, then opening again into long stretches of pale grass under a wide sky.

Vane noticed the change in everyone gradually.

Shoulders loosening.

Steps lengthening.

The small habits of vigilance easing one mile at a time.

Leaving Meridine whole behind them had done something that resting inside it never quite had.

They were done there.

Properly done.

Nothing was waiting behind them to collapse the moment they left.

That mattered.

Mara counted mile markers whenever the road offered them and invented her own system when it didn’t. At some point she began measuring distance by how many ration breaks remained before sunset, apparently satisfied that this was more useful than trusting the road signs.

Isole hummed quietly to herself.

Vane couldn’t tell whether it was an actual song or simply the sound she made when nobody nearby needed healing.

Valerica walked ahead with Nyx.

The conversation had begun, as far as Vane could tell, with supply distribution.

It had stopped being about supply distribution some time ago.

Nyx laughed too often for it to still be practical.

That alone felt strange enough to be worth noticing.

They made camp well before dark.

The sea was close now.

They could hear it beyond the trees, a steady distant rhythm, though the coastline itself remained hidden.

Nobody suggested pushing farther.

For once, there was no reason to.

The camp came together lazily.

Packs dropped.

Bedrolls unfastened.

A fire pit cleared.

The mood had become lighter than Vane remembered any of them being in weeks.

Not relief exactly.

Relief still carried the shape of what had been survived.

This was something easier.

The particular freedom of setting down a weight carried long enough that the body had forgotten it was there.

"I am not sharing with Ashe tonight."

Valerica dropped her pack beside the fire with the finality of someone announcing a military decree.

Ashe looked over.

"Excuse me?"

"You kick."

"I do not."

Valerica began unrolling her bedroll.

"You kick specifically and with intent."

"That is slander."

"I have bruises from Vaelkirk."

"You probably walked into something."

"I was asleep."

"That doesn’t exclude poor coordination."

Valerica looked at her.

Ashe held the stare.

"I have witnesses," Valerica said.

"Name one."

"Me."

Isole was arranging kindling beside the fire.

She did not look up.

Ashe turned slowly.

"You too?"

"I shared with you for three nights in Ossara."

Isole placed another piece of wood.

"I remember all three."

"That was one incident."

"It occurred on three separate nights."

"You’re counting?"

"I keep excellent records."

Valerica nodded.

"Exactly."

Ashe looked between them.

"This is becoming hostile."

"No," Isole said. "It’s documentation."

Nyx made a quiet sound of approval from where she had dropped beside Mara.

Ashe threw up both hands.

"Fine."

She looked around the camp.

"I’ll sleep somewhere else."

Then her eyes moved to Vane.

The glance lasted approximately half a second too long.

Nobody missed it.

"Subtle," Isole said.

Ashe shrugged.

"I wasn’t trying to be."

Valerica, now entirely satisfied, returned to her bedroll.

"Then I withdraw the criticism. It was simply an observation."

Nyx flopped backward onto the grass beside Mara with theatrical exhaustion.

"Some of us," she announced, "intend to have a perfectly peaceful and scandal-free evening."

Mara didn’t look up from her ledger.

"There’s forty-one."

Nyx turned her head.

"Forty-one what?"

"Ration crates."

A pause.

Nyx nodded solemnly.

"Riveting."

Mara made another notation.

"Three are half-empty."

"Even better."

Nyx placed a hand over her heart.

"This is the energy I respect."

Isole sat down beside them.

"You say that like you’re not planning to stay awake and listen for exactly the thing you’re pretending not to care about."

Nyx looked offended.

"I would never."

Isole raised an eyebrow.

Nyx considered.

"I absolutely would."

"Thought so."

"I’ve earned the entertainment."

Nyx gestured vaguely toward the world around them.

"This entire war owes me at least this much."

Mara finally looked up.

"What entertainment?"

Four faces turned toward her.

Valerica answered immediately.

"Nothing."

Mara stared at her.

"That sounded suspicious."

"It wasn’t."

"That sounded more suspicious."

Nyx covered her mouth with one hand.

Isole abruptly became very interested in the fire.

Mara frowned.

Then, apparently deciding there were more important things in life than adult incompetence, returned to the ration count.

The evening settled slowly.

The fire burned lower.

Conversation thinned.

Isole and Nyx sat near the coals speaking quietly about nothing important enough to remember.

Valerica fell asleep with several pages of notes still loosely held against her chest.

Mara curled beside her pack, ledger shut at last, whatever crisis forty-one ration crates might have represented apparently resolved to her satisfaction.

Vane moved a little away from the camp.

The trees opened there.

Above them stretched a clear sky crowded with unfamiliar stars.

Different world.

Different constellations.

He had stopped trying to name them.

Behind him, footsteps approached.

"Hi."

Vane looked over.

Ashe dropped down beside him.

She was already smiling.

"Hi."

For a few seconds, neither said anything.

Then Ashe leaned against him.

"I believe I mentioned finding somewhere else to sleep."

"You did."

"Good."

"Several times."

"I wanted the record to be thorough."

Vane glanced toward the camp.

"I’m fairly certain the record is extremely thorough."

"Then my work here is done."

She settled more comfortably against him.

Warm.

Easy.

Familiar.

The kind of closeness that no longer required either of them to decide what it meant every time it happened.

Ashe tilted her head.

"Also."

Vane waited.

"If Isole makes one more comment tomorrow about tallying occasions, I’m blaming you."

"How is that my fault?"

"Being memorable."

"That isn’t how blame works."

"It is when I’m assigning it."

"You can’t just invent rules that benefit you."

Ashe looked thoughtful.

"I think you’ll find I can."

"That is literally inventing the rules."

"Only because you said it out loud."

Vane laughed.

Ashe smiled.

Then she kissed him.

Slowly.

Nothing hurried in it.

No urgency left over from battle.

No fear that the next morning might take something from them before they had time to name it.

Just familiarity.

Warmth.

The comfort of having survived enough together that neither needed to justify wanting the other near.

For a while, conversation stopped being useful.

Somewhere behind them, the fire cracked.

The sea moved in the distance.

Neither of them paid much attention to anything else.

They also, in the end, paid very little attention to volume.

Vane woke sometime before dawn.

The sky had begun to pale.

Ashe was curled against him, asleep, one arm resting across his chest.

He stayed still.

Then he noticed Nyx.

She was sitting first watch near the fire.

Looking directly at him.

Her expression was serene.

Far too serene.

The face of someone who had spent a significant portion of the night collecting material.

Vane stared back.

Nyx smiled.

Slowly.

He considered several possible responses.

None improved the situation.

So he closed his eyes.

Ashe shifted closer without waking.

From the fire came the faintest sound of Nyx suppressing a laugh.

Vane decided, on balance, that morning could deal with itself.

He went back to sleep.

And let Nyx prepare whatever disaster she intended to unleash once everyone else woke up.