Short Stories From Fading Worlds

The Sleepless' Road: Chapter 1

The fire hadn't taken them long to get ready, but the woodsman wouldn't let them use any of the remaining petrol the he had with him to make it burn easier, which had been annoying.
As he left to go scrounge up some food the rest of them had been left trying to light the wood with sparks from the flint and steel he'd carried with him.

"Why can't we use the petrol?" She'd asked.

He'd smiled at her, a slight twinkle of genuine mirth in his eyes, tempered by lingering fear.
"Call it a gut instinct. I reckon we'll be needing it soon enough."

And that had been that. Their camp was ready and the woodman returned an hour later with a few handfuls of berries and a fish. They cooked the fish over the fire and took about two mouthfuls of the small thing each, with some of the berries being handed out to each of them. They supplemented the woodsman's foraging with some of the dry bread he had left for their rations, but it was still a small meal.

Not that she was complaining. She'd not done anything to catch the fish or find the berries, and there was no need for him to share his rations with them.
He did anyway, of course.

"I know it isn't the best meal you'll have had, but it's all we've got till we reach the village. Enjoy it as best you can, then get some rest. We've a long way to go yet."
They'd all muttered some small thanks to him before digging in. The berries were bitter, the fish tasteless and the bread hard, but it filled the stomach and that was what mattered at the moment.

The woodsman stood after a little while, moving his rifle from his shoulder to his hands. The old cobbler started and reached for his shotgun, thinking a shadow was coming.

"No, don't worry, no shadows." The woodsman said. "I'm just getting ready for you all to catch some rest. I'll take the first watch."

She knew exactly how this would go. They'd rest here for eight hours with two watches. He always took first, then someone else would take the second.
He always overran on his. He claimed they all needed the extra sleep, and he didn't. Couldn't.
She didn't think she'd ever seen someone so tired who couldn't sleep before.

Well, it wasn't like she had enough energy to dwell on that. Night was falling, and far in the distance there was the distinct cry of a shadow embracing the thrill of the hunt.
Poor bastard, she thought to herself. Anyone left out there would be little more than sport for the shadows when the last dregs of sunlight fell below the horizon.
The young woodsman fiddled with the bolt of the rifle in his hands, looking out into the distance where the cry had come from.

"It's gonna be a long night, tonight."

He nodded at the old cobbler.
"I'll wake you in four hours. I won't be going to sleep tonight, I don't think. Something's coming."

He was silent as he stared back down the way they'd came, back west.
"Get what rest you can. I don't wanna be out here one more second than I need to be."

She turned in her sleeping bag to face the fire and closed her eyes.
If a shadow was going to take her tonight, she'd rather not see it coming.

"Psst. Come on, wake up."

There was a whispered urgency in his voice as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Wha-"

He cut her off immediately with a finger to his lips, and she followed his instructions without question. He'd kept them alive this long, after all.
She nodded at him, to show she understood.

"Okay. Don't say anything. Try and move around the camp to wake the others as quietly as you can, and stay close-"

"Could you be quiet? I'm trying to sleep."