Having slept on the floor, Tawny woke with every joint in his body aching and stretched out his arms to find some relief. He failed, grunted and rolled over onto his knees to stare into the dead fire in the hearth. Shivering, he rubbed himself, clamping his arms around his chest as he got unsteadily to his feet.
Han sat in a gnarled, rickety chair, gazing out through the open shutters towards the dreary morning.
“Jesus,” groaned Tawny, shuffling over to the Okinawan. He looked and felt like an old man, shoulders hunched, body bent at the waist, smacking dry lips, blinking bleary eyes. He flopped down onto another chair. “Have you been awake all night?”
Nodding once, Han shot a glance toward the bedroom door through which the others had gone hours before. “I thought they might try and ki
