Gengar Sleeping Bag Novels & Stories

She smiles softly, telling me to get some rest before pulling the door shut behind her. The second the latch clicks, I press two fingers against my throbbing temples, standing in the middle of the pink madness. I unzip my canvas duffel bag, pull out my dark cotton sleep clothes, and walk straight into the adjoining stone washroom. My body aches from the long journey from Whitlock Hollow, the border checks, and the constant strain of hiding my high-grade silver neutralizers from pack sensors. Meanwhile, across the territorial line at the sprawling Gilbert Pack Estate, Tuesday Gilbert lies wide awake in her luxury suite.

Every few minutes a generator coughed somewhere deeper in the clearing, and men’s voices drifted out tired, rough, full of the stories they told to keep the dark from feeling so close. I had been at this for three nights. Non-perishables from the supply shed when the night watch was drunk or sleeping. Rope. Waterproof matches. A second canteen. Small things that wouldn’t be missed until the next inventory, and by then we would be gone. The weight of the bag was starting to feel like a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. A lantern swung near the mess tent. Two loggers sat on overturned crates, passing a thermos. Their words carried farther than they knew.

She counted four big boxes and she wondered what she was supposed to use it all for. “Theresa, what are those? Do I need this much?” “You don't have to worry, two boxes are filled with your sleeping care kits. We had to put duvets, especially the ones made of fur so you can have a comfortable sleep while you are away.” Calla smiled, “thank you.” “Another box is filled with snacks that can last you two weeks to a month. We labeled each properly so you have nothing to worry about.” “Thank you but I may not have the chance to eat.”

I whispered back, hoping I didn't end up regretting my words. Though it seems Bryan forgot we were meant to pack lightly, or maybe what he had packed was as light as he could. "Is there a human being in there?" I asked, staring at the camping bag he had lying against the edge of the seats. "In my defence, gadgets and electronics aren't exactly as foldable as clothes and accessories." He defended. "Plus, I just found out there's actually an Inn at the Gerno tribe's village." "An Inn? In the 21st century?" Kaila blinked, stifling a laugh.

Morrigan quickly hands her a pillow and a blanket. “Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” she asks. Takota shakes her head. “This is already much better than the ground,” she states, climbing into her sleeping bag. “Alright then,” Morrigan says, laying down in her bed. She’s left with a single pillow and a thin blanket, but she makes herself comfortable. “Goodnight.” - - - - -

Finnegan didn’t rush her, but he was efficient. He helped her pack a duffle bag with enough clothes for at least four days–mostly the thermal gear, the heavy socks, and the new toiletries. He made sure she packed the stuffed wolf, tucking it into the side pocket with a smile. “Just in case,” he said. He went across the hall to his own room and returned five minutes later with a battered canvas rucksack slung over one shoulder.

"As soon as I'm finished with him I'm going to take a look at your shoulder again." She then points over her shoulder to the crates and sleeping bags. "Crates have things like granola bars and sealed bags of jerky and trail mix. You can help yourselves." She finishes wrapping Ryder's wound and turns to me. "I only have two sleeping bags. They're both fairly big though." Her lips twitch as she struggles to hide a smile. "Though I'm sure the two of you are willing to share one." I narrow my eyes at her while Ryder rocks back on his heels, a highly amused smile on his face. "Why can't you share?" I ask her.

She deserves everything I never gave her when we were young. The tent is up, “glamping-style,” or so I’m told by Aubrey, one of our pack’s mated females. It’s much bigger than any tent I’ve ever seen, and miles apart from the one me and Paige used back then. Its cream canvas glows faintly with the lanterns set up inside, it looks warm and safe. It’s so big that we have a proper bed in there, with sheets, pillows and blankets. There’s no thin sleeping bag or cold ground this time.

“You and the girls make her happy.” “She makes us happy.” Pagan grinned as the older man picked up one of his toddler daughters. He considered asking the large man with bows in his long black hair and beard how many kids he had. It was a different statement that came out of his mouth. “You look like the Beast just before their dance.” A loud humorous laugh echoed around them. “At least I’m not Gaston.” The women came down shortly after that. Shiloh gave Pagan a list and a credit card to use at a sporting goods store. His list had sleeping bags, tents, coolers, backpacks and jackets on it.

Gunner sat at the open door of his tent, legs crossed and eyes watching me walk toward him. “That’s all you have, where’s your tent and camping equipment?” he asked looking at the backpack draped over my shoulder. “I don’t have any of that” I answered bluntly. He furrowed his brows and seemed to be thinking, as he once again looked around at the trees. “It gets pretty cold here at night” he said and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t know that” I lied. Of course I know it gets cold. I've been sleeping out in it every night. He doesn’t need to know how much I actually like the cold, how much I have in common with the cold dark night.