Exhaustion overtook him before Kre had a chance to rouse his relief. As his head slowly lowered to his chest and as his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, a massive hand clapped down on his shoulder, startling him to immediate wakefulness.
“Relax lad,” came the familiar rumble. “It’s good you were ready to fight,” he gestured at the hunting knife half-raised in Kre’s hands, “but it’s never good to let your companions down when standing watch.”
His heart still beating frantically from the scare, Kre had to take a few deep breaths to get his pulse back under control. “I’m sorry Beleg,” he finally managed to utter, “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
In the dying firelight, Kre could see Beleg nod. “I figured as much. I’ve been awake for a while now, so there’s no harm this time.” He patted Kre’s shoulder and then turned him towards the fire. “Add a few logs and then get some rest.”
Kre stood and stretched out the kinks from sitting in one place too long. “Thanks, Beleg. Again, I’m very sorry for…”
Beleg waved his hand and grinned, “Forgiven and forgotten. This time at least.”
Kre nodded his thanks and moved towards the fire when the large man cleared his throat. He turned to see Beleg holding out his hand. “The knife, please.”
With a mute nod, Kre returned the borrowed weapon. Beleg slid the well-used blade into his boot and gave it a reassuring pat as he sat down on the ground.
Already Kre found himself missing the knife. The weight of it in his hands. The knowledge that it was sharp and a very serviceable weapon. Without it, he felt a chill run down his spine and not from the chill night air. Growing up in Mintas, he never thought about needing to carry a weapon around with him all the time. Even carrying a pocketknife was a rare occasion and even then, it was only for utility when he knew he would need it while working the field.
Here, in the dark forest with creatures such as goblins, rakshasa, the Dalklyn, and all other manner of magical beings that he had never learned about, being without a weapon made him feel far too vulnerable. Hefting one of the logs, he briefly thought of bringing one back to his blanket to be used as an improvised club should it be necessary but ultimately decided against it, instead tossing it into the fire as instructed. He added two more logs and stoked the fire just a bit to bring it back to life. In the renewed light, he rolled himself up in his blanket and heaved a deep sigh of relief for being able to lie down in the warmth.
“Night Beleg,” he whispered to the night air, unsure if the massive fighter could hear him or not. He glanced over at Dain and chuckled to himself, recalling his nights spent camping with Kitalia and how different she was from these two… from the entire company, really.
‘Except maybe Kersath’ he thought. The two of them seemed to have a similar level of sardonicism coupled with the right amount of wit to still make it fun. He wondered how the rest of the company was faring and how Lady Bel and Kitalia were doing. As his mind wandered to his hometown friends, sleep finally overtook him and he could recall nothing more from his dreamless night.