Hamish stood, stretching the kink out of his spine. He grabbed his pack and, with a nod to his companions, sauntered off to bed. They’d be up at first light and he aimed to get as much sleep as possible before his time on watch.
The inside of his tent held only a few woollen blankets folded near the entrance. Tossing his pack to one side, he laid one blanket on the ground. To look at, they weren’t anything fancy, but they were sturdy, practical and, above all, warm.
He bundled himself up in the other blanket and pillowed his head on an arm. The light of the campfire danced across the tent wall before him, throwing odd shadows as the men outside moved. Closing his eyes was enough to throw the world into darkness, but as much as he tried to sleep, his mind raced faster than a boarhound on the scent.
Tomorrow, they would reach Old Willie’s Farm around midday. By the middle of the afternoon, they would’ve taken their first steps on the road leading towards the Crowned Mountain, where the cloister nestled in the foothills.
Would their path be clear? Whilst there were no actual villages, the land between here and the cloister had a few sizable farms. The farmers might not have magic to aid in the removal of downed trees, but Hamish found it hard to imagine they’d suffer much blocking their way for long.
Sleep had just begun to claim him when a thump from within the tent jolted him awake.
Scrambling to sit up, he came face to face with Darshan kneeling just inside the entrance. The tent flap fluttered in the wind, thin streams of moonlight peeking through the gap. “What—?”
“It is freezing.” Darshan was wrapped in a thick blanket and still trembled as he crawled along the ground. Although Hamish couldn’t quite make out the man’s expression, there was the distinct energy of a glare directed his way. “How can you travel like this?” his lover demanded.
Even with his heart hammering, a puff of laughter shook Hamish’s body and eased his muscles. He leant back on his arms. “It’s nae that bad. You should try it in the winter, when there’s snow.” They didn’t typically travel far then, but there’d been a few times in his youth where braving the cold had sounded like the sort of challenge worthy of a man.
Via a flicker of moonlight, he caught Darshan pull a face as the man imperiously flapped his hand. “Move over. If we are to traverse through this frigid clime, then you are keeping me warm.” He flopped onto the ground and rolled over to present his back. “I swear this bloody place is going to be the death of me.”
“Aye,” Hamish chuckled. “Pay nae mind to the bears and rogue boars that can gore a man to shreds in seconds, it’s the cold that’ll kill you.”
A soft, unamused grunt emanated from the bundle of blankets.
Hamish wrapped an arm around the pile. The sweet scent of whatever Darshan put in his hair still clung to the strands. Had he brought it along with him? What of other lotions? “I could warm you a lot better if you were naked, you ken,” he murmured into the man’s ear.
Silence greeted his suggestion.
He waited for some sly remark or a comment on his boldness, but nothing was forthcoming. Maybe he really is cold.
“That is some sort of Tirglasian trick, right?” Darshan wriggled deeper beneath the blankets. “You shall not get me to shed a single layer.”
Still chuckling breathlessly, Hamish slithered beneath the blankets to the muffled squeak of Darshan’s protests about letting the night air in. “Then I guess I’ll have to come in after you.” He felt his way along his lover’s side, searching for the hem of the man’s undershirt. However much Darshan protested, he had discarded at least the outer layer of his garments.
At last finding a gap in the soft fabric, Hamish worked his fingers beneath. His lover’s skin was chill against his fingertips. “Goddess’ breath, you’re as cold as an orphaned lamb.”
“What did I tell you?” Shivering, Darshan scrunched tighter on himself. “And you are letting all the heat out,” he grumbled.
Hamish pressed himself against Darshan until his chest was flush with his lover’s back. He rubbed at his lover’s arms, using the friction to work some heat back into the limbs. “Can you nae heat up the inside of a tent with magic?”
“I can,” Darshan conceded. “But not when I am asleep. Not safely.” He squirmed beneath the blankets, twisting around like a rebellious pup on a leash. “How can you sleep like this? The ground does not exactly have much in the way of give.”
Hamish continued to rub furiously at his lover’s arm and back until heat slowly returned to Darshan’s skin. “You get used to it, I suppose.” He had spent a good portion of his youth roaming the hills surrounding Mullhind, sometimes opting to sleep out under the stars with the castle just an hour’s walk away. And, whilst the ground didn’t have an ounce of give, his bed wasn’t much softer. “Did you nae go camping as a lad?”
“We had beds.” The gentle tremor in Darshan’s voice was starting to fade along with the cold radiating from his body. “Wooden frames with strong linen hung between. And pillows.”
Hamish chuckled. No mistaking the emphasis there. With Sean’s decree to pack only the essentials, anything resembling a pillow with no other function had been the first thing to go. “Lift your head.” When his lover obeyed, Hamish gently slid his arm into the space beneath and urged Darshan to relax onto it. “It’s a wee bit
