The golden eyes of Derrix watched Sana disappear on her way back to the main road. A leaf rustling wind broke his gaze, and he turned to watched a few green leaves flutter to the ground. A simple smile crossed his face and he turned to his horse, who had submerged the first half of its muzzle into the pond.

	“Don’t work too hard,” Derrix humored before falling flat on his butt with a loud clank of metal. Between the lullabies of the birds, the serenity of the grove, and the lack of sleep, a numbing exhaustion shook his senses.

	He shook off his metal gloves and stretched his bare and scarred fingers, letting the cool breeze of the storm rejuvenate them. Sleep was tempting, but Derrix quickly shook the very idea as quickly as it came. Truth be told,  the man wished he could say to himself [i]‘I don't remember the last time I ever slept”[/i], but he knew the exact day and hour, and it was no where close to where he was now in time.

	He vaguely remembered the shock of sleep, and how it slowly envelops the body and mind until suddenly the eyes break open to a new day, almost as if magically traveling to a new dawn. Derrix remembered the tiny visions the sleeping mind would make to amuse the conscious and strike conversation in the morning. But mostly, he remembered why those type of nights were gone.

	A frown captured his face and he groaned almost as silently as the wind to himself. He raised his hands and clasped them together, threading his fingers around each other until both his hands formed one big fist. With a grunt, he shifted onto his knees, and laid his forehead against his fists, and closed his eyes.

	Derrix’s lips moved silently as he whispered very familiar words. As he whispered, a soft light began to form in the center of his clasped hands, like a baby ember ready to be nursed into a fire. With each breath he breathed from his whispered word onto his hand, the small light grew brighter and brighter, until eventually with a rush of wind and pulse of light, the light caught a white flame like a bonfire and spread down his arms and up his shoulders and neck, before surrounding his head in a brilliant glow.

	As the final words were whispered, the light dissolved into nothingness and Derrix opened his golden eyes and unclasped his hands. All was the same, except for an abundance of new energy that coursed through the man, as if, he figured, he had a full night’s sleep.

	“Time to gather wood,” Derrix quietly reminded himself as he slowly stood up, sliding his gauntlets back on.