Darkness descended, and cool air came wreathing around them. Time went on hiatus. Atlas, dangling in a seated position in his harness, found a way to wrap the rope so he could rest against it and find a semblance of sleep. Logan pulled stiffly to his feet and rummaged in the tin chest at the corner of the platform. He attached one musty sleeping bag to a carabiner, clipped it to the rope holding Atlas, and sent it down. When it gently hit him, Atlas accepted it without comment and wrapped it around himself. Logan crawled into his own bag and turned on his side.
Sleep took them at different times, unawares, like a switch that had been flicked, conscious one moment—then not. Logan slept fitfully, awakening to a super moon, peculiarly bright, casting a web of black shadows and white space li
