My dreams were quite nerve-wracking and haunting. It was something involving witnessing a young scholar facing a cart full of books and scrolls he'd have to hand in, and my own inability to help out with the workload, despite somehow knowing everything that he needed. Anyway, back to the story...

Did I mention I nearly lost my eardrums? The weather's usually bad around these parts, but it wasn't insane enough to strike thunder out of nowhere. I was shaken alright, my usual habit of grumbling and stirring awake replaced by panic and flailing. It sounded like we were being shot out of a cannon, but I didn't need to look around for a conspicuous siege weapon. After all, Robert was the loose cannon in this case, somewhat unsurprised yet apologetic. I crossed my eyes at him and lifted myself up, the feeling that I needed to stab him slowly fading away. I didn't really chip into the tirade of others until they quieted down, which let me say "Whatever deity that's up there, you could at least smite Robert instead of the air."

I kicked away at the grass and tightened the buckle around my coat, which was starting to get frayed and dirty in a few places. I mean, I already looked shady enough with alcohol stains and alleyway moss patching me, but the dirt and twigs embedded in the cloth was starting to make me look homeless. (Which technically I am, but that's another story.) Aside from that, Robert's skill had me awake but groggy, because you clearly can't cure insomnia and interrupted sleep. "Just go already, goodness. I'll wake up properly as we walk." These people were fussing about bandits and road agents, but I just wanted to stay awake.