[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Road North of Salarn, Camp[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] The Earth, Sky, and his own thoughts[/center][/b] 

Keystone preferred sleep. Actual, honest, log-sawing sleep wherein nocturnal visions of tansy cakes and peppermint creme may chance by, (properly served by that barmaid from the previous evening, Brighid). Instead of sleep, however, he got an interesting mental exercise that kept his mind focused in the state of the Present, without any conscious review as to what went on prior to that moment, nor contemplation about what may happen after said moment. The otherwise unrefined, underclass brute was keyed in to his personal lines of energy, the details of his surroundings, and precisely how and where they came together in the seamless dance of the ebb and flow of positive and negative forces; both apart from and a part of his environment. 

The practical benefits to this were profound. He had used this technique several times in the past when full sleep was ill advised. It not only eliminated the need for it, this particular form of meditation allowed him to become a conduit for energies around him, refreshing his own in half the time it would ordinarily. Simultaneously, it gave him profound awareness of his surroundings. To anyone examining the burly fighter, he was merely sitting, half at attention, staring straight ahead with barely a breath moving past his lips. Seemingly disconnected with the world, despite the gross inaccuracy of that assumption. 

Still, he preferred sleep. It had the potential to be so much more [i]pleasant[/i]. 

Sona had come to join him for watch, only to warm herself and settle in soon thereafter. No matter, Keystone  was still on the job. The newer members of the group came for their turns at watch and left as they had agreed, yet there sat Keystone; still, quiet, am impossibly focused on everything and nothing at the same time. True, he had expected odd looks from these people. The uninitiated or unaware often would stare, possibly test his patience by waving their hands in front of his face or, more stupidly, tossing things at him to elicit a response. Often enough, people like this had a black eye to explain to their friends later on. 

Many people engaged in this practice, resting meditation, for the purposes of gaining greater understanding of themselves and the world around them. While such enlightenment was a noble aspiration, it was not the primary motivator for Keystone that evening. No, the brutal cranial percussionist maintained his spiritually ascending vigil for one reason only: 

He didn't really trust anyone or anything about this situation. 

He had met his teammates the day before, and some of their actions honestly concerned him. He didn't know these newcomers to the camp, and he was very wary of their presence. He didn't trust the woods, what with a full out [i]war[/i] kicking off. Not the birds, not the trees, not the ants marching one by one to carry away a fleck of sugar yam from last night's meal. He especially didn't trust whoever was lurking out in the woods still, and did not intend to be set upon unawares. 

As a matter of technicality, Keystone required four hours of meditation to fully function, replacing more mundane rest; but he could remain in that state for a very long time if he so chose. Again, technically, he could stay in meditation indefinitely. Practical reasons prevented this, of course. Eventually a lack of water would claim him, or any number of physical necessities. The mind was strong, but the physical body bore with it the limitations of humanity. Still, he could exist like this for a long, long time, with perfect awareness. 

This perfect awareness allowed Keystone to realize that their Kyra had readied an arrow. Now, whether this was a ritual, performed every time she takes a guard position, or an active sensing of danger, the large man could not say. He remained as he was, seated and meditating. 

Maybe, as the sun crested the horizon, he could get to work on breakfast. But that was still a little way off.