Sleep seems far away.
David burrows deep into his blankets to protect the chill of open water. Even without their lamp, he can make out the faint moonlight spilling in from the stairs, but also the shape of the cargo and the bend of the walls from the depth of the darkness. He can faintly make out Rose’s figure, her bedroll spread out atop a few cargo crates because she swore she wouldn’t be able to get back up if she had bedded down on the floor. Like David had. He feels less exposed down here.
Above them, he hears Joan bickering with Edgar. He’s taking over for her now, so she can get some sleep before they hit Mutcherhaven. She’ll need her sleep-David wants her and Galia out at first light scouting the manor, since they won’t let David come with in fear of the witches recognizing him.
