No Rest for the Weak
Lila lay still, her body unbending, each muscle hung tight with pressure. Rest was an extravagance she couldn't bear.
The Bloodfang camp had settled into an uneasy stillness. The fire had burned down to shining ashes, casting flashing shadows over the unpleasant ground. Many rebels had turned in for the night, their profound, consistent breathing the as it were sign of their transitory peace. But others remained awake—watching. Holding up.
Holding up for her to slip.
She couldn't let that happen.
A moderate, cold wind cut through the discuss, gnawing at her uncovered skin. She shuddered but didn't drag her tattered cloak more tightly around her. Any development can be seen as shortcoming, and shortcoming welcomed predators.
She had to seem unshaken. Immovable.
She twisted her arms around herself, squeezing a defensive hand to her stomach. Her heart clenched at the little swell underneath her palm. The weight of her unborn children, her final association to somethi
