The noise of civilization had become unusual to Sastra. So, despite being thoroughly exhausted, sated in her lover’s arms, and in a very comfortable bed. Sastra could not sleep. She’d become used to fresh air, instead of the smells that came with a city, smells that previously, she’d never noticed. Human waste, food, smoke and coal fires seemed to surround them. Not for heat, but for cooking fires that needed to keep burning. The sound of rustling trees had become comforting but was replaced by the quiet, but unpredictable murmur of townsfolk moving around throughout the night. As she lay, staring at the pale canopy of the bed, Jasons stretched out beside her, a sheet tangled low around his waist, she wondered what on earth everyone was doing so late at night?
It sounded as though the en
