Despite the inky darkness that had swallowed them, Drake’s eyes were more accustomed to the dark than most, especially now that his eyes had enhanced after ‘awakening’ as Melinda had called it. However, even he had trouble scoping too far ahead once the dark green curtain of the surrounding forests came into view. It was a sign they’d managed to clear the first obstacle, the long stretch of meadows.
They’d been walking for just over an hour when they reached the border between the forest and the openly exposed meadows. Melinda revealed that she’d set up her camp just beyond the trees and it would be wise for them to take shelter for the night before pushing on throughout the following day. Drake had protested against such an unnecessary stop; however, Melinda combatted his impatience by highlighting his broken arm.
“You need to rest that wound, and we could do with creating a sling to help for a smoother recovery,” Melinda suggested, appearing genuinely concerned by how Drake merely allowed it to flounder at his side as though he was unaware of its existence.
“If you were going to fuss over it this much, why did you break it in the first place?” grumbled Drake irritably, irked by the delay.
“How was I to know you were so fragile,” Melinda smirked, once again tactfully assaulting his pride to win the argument.
She continued to lead the way through the damaged path of foliage she’d previously made when she first left the forest. The bony fingers of the trees and the pine needles snared and lanced at Drake’s skin, shredding his clothing slightly, and worse, his open wounds on his back, which once again was the fault of Melinda’s rash and brutish greeting.
They finally emerged into a slight clearing where Drake could spot numerous belongings scattered like leaves along the forest floor. In the centre of the many bags and tools was a skilfully constructed campfire surrounded by a circle of rocks to contain the might blaze that would soon consume the already gathered kindling and dry grass. A safe ten feet away from the timber was a small cosy tent already pitched and awaiting an occupant. Melinda had clearly made the most simplistic preparations for the campsite before racing off to gather Drake.
“At least it will be warmer for you tonight in that tent, rather than the shattered remains of your shed,” Melinda sneered as she searched through her belongings for a tinderbox to help light the fire. Once again she was ignoring her own significant role in Drake’s misfortunes.
Drake searched the camp for perhaps a second un-pitched tent; however, there was nothing of the sort amongst Melinda’s supplies. “Where will you sleep?” he inquired curiously, concerned that he’d be stealing her shelter.
“In the tent, of course,” she replied without so much as a quick glance over her shoulder, as though the question was a very minor and almost pointless inquisition. Drake suddenly felt himself tensing up slightly, and unbeknown to him, his face flushed a slight scarlet shade. The tent was cosy for one; however, it would be impossible for two people to share it without being rather close and somewhat snug against each other.
“You mean… you mean we’d be… sleeping next to each other?” he stuttered nervously.
“But of course, it’s warmer when you share your body heat at night. Why, don’t tell me you’re shy?” Melinda seized the opportunity to snigger and jeer at Drake’s discomfort. “I suppose it was those villagers who taught you that it was not common courtesy for men and women to share sleeping arrangements. Phhh! Hogwash! Only the insecure would act so reserved over such a basic instinct. Have you ever seen an animal acting too shy to snuggle simply because it’s not common courtesy?”
