[i]You don’t look so great yourself.[/i] Ghent studied the Curse-infected Knight through bloodshot eyes. He lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug, his muscles protesting the simplest of movements. “Maybe I’m allergic to ghosts.” He thought the comment was clever until he remembered Drust didn’t have a sense of humor.
	“I’m just tired.” Ghent amended. He anticipated a follow up question, or even an accusation, but it never came. Instead, Drust turned his attention to the magical bag between them.
	Ghent breathed a secret sigh of relief. It wasn’t long before the Knight retrieved something, a bundle of fabric large enough to pass as a blanket. To Ghent’s surprise, the item was offered to him. He stared at the cloak as if it were a foreign object, his mind taking longer than necessary to process the gesture. It was strange to think that this was the same man who had tried to run him through with a katana.
	Before Ghent could find the words to properly thank him, Drust went on to speak about keeping watch. The task had slipped Ghent’s mind completely.
	“I guess I can take second watch,” he offered, glancing toward Elayra. He wasn’t sure how the King’s Curative worked, but he figured the longer her sleep went undisturbed, the better. He tucked the journal underneath his arm and reached to accept the cloak, his hand dipping slightly due to the fabrics weight.
	“And, um…” Ghent couldn't help but feel the smallest bit ashamed. Aside from the hoodie on his back, he hadn't thought to bring anything warm. “Thanks, Drust.” He lingered in place, contemplating saying more. There was a lot he still wanted to ask the Knight, but the time wasn't right. After a few moments of deliberation, he turned to go.
	Carrying Drust’s cloak and Hatter’s gifts, Ghent returned to his belongings. He set aside his staff, then opened the flap of his backpack and placed his father's journal inside for safekeeping. Hopefully, the pages contained answers to some of the questions that went unasked.
	Using the softer half of his backpack as a pillow, Ghent moved to lie on his back. The canopy of trees towered above him, stray dust motes drifting where they pleased. It should have been peaceful, but he couldn't take comfort in the scenery. He had too much to think about.
	Everything had happened so fast. It took one day -- one [i]encounter[/i] -- and his entire world was flipped upside down. Elayra and Drust were real. [i]Magic[/i] was real. Not to mention ghosts, and worlds beyond Wonderland. He wasn't human, and his role in the castle was apparently decided for him. His father was one of the Forsaken, and his mother...he didn't know. He didn't even know what had happened to Elayra's parents exactly. 
	If that wasn't enough to keep him awake, Ghent also had his life on Earth to worry about. By now his parents would have discovered his disappearance. What would they think? He didn't leave a note, or tell anyone other than Henry. Part of him wondered if that was because he had no intentions of actually going. After all, he hadn't gone into the portal willingly. He was pushed.
	[i]Thanks, Miles.[/i] Ghent rolled onto his side and pulled the cloak over his shoulder, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. The last thing he remembered before succumbing to sleep was the warmth of the fire, and the gentle rustling of trees.