Chapter 36

It was more practical for the three of them to share a single large tent, Dane knew, but he didn't feel comfortable enough to do that yet. Flynn did not know how to pitch a tent, so he taught him. He set the first two and let the Sleeper try installing his own. He got it right. More than once, the clamor of the battle of the dead ones shook the cavern, sending dust and sand falling.

He couldn't sleep knowing that the roof could fall on him at any moment, so there he was, huddled tightly in multiple layers of blankets within his sleeping bag. The tents belonging to the Sleepers' had their 'doors' facing the fire to let in the heat. The rustle and crackle of the fire comforted Dane, who was scared out of his mind. He knew he wasn't alone in that sentiment.

He heard sobs coming from Jeanne's tent beside him. He wasn't sure if he would be breaking down like her if the pain he was feeling was gone. Somehow, Flynn remained nonchalant, able to sleep. Shifting under his blankets, he groaned as pain lanced through his hands. He bit his lips bitterly, cursing his flaw.

…he had four years. Four years to get out of here before he ran out of food. Or else, he would have to start hunting the weaker abominations in this nightmare of a desert. He wasn't keen on either…the idea of moving through the battlefield or fighting the Fallen was not particularly appealing.

He wished Lancel, Lian, or any of the Awakened from his clan were here with him. The adults always knew what to do. And he was lost on all fronts. Ah, there it was. Dane felt wetness in his eyes. He closed his eyes, refusing to let the tears fall.

As the night went on, he wondered about his friends, Blaise and Thalia. Were they safe? He had wanted to awaken the nightmare seed within him so he could be with them in the Dream Realm. Now, he was content with being separated as long as they were far away from this hell.

Jeanne cleared her throat outside his tent, and he opened his now dry eyes to see her squatting at the tent's entrance. "Can I have some water?"

He got up, extricating himself from the bundle of blankets. "I'm going to make coffee. Do you want some?" he offered after handing her the Myriad Vial. She nodded while drinking. He took the Memory back and summoned the Gargantuan Vial.

The fire was close to dying now. He stomped out the last of the fire, and all that remained was gray-white coal and the embers burning furiously within them. It was perfect.

He pulled out a percolator and opened its lid. He filled it with water halfway through, placed the stem in, and then fit the iron basket through the stem. He added two scoops of roast ground on the filter, put the lid back on, and propped the percolator on the coals at the side of the firepit.

Dane knew he could expedite the process by using the Myriad Vial's hot water, but coffee was better when it had time to brew in a percolator. Besides, the process would be peaceful to sit through, as opposed to the snappy nature of instant coffee, not that he disliked instant coffee.

Jeanne sat down next to him. "Were you able to sleep?" she asked.

He replied, "No, but Flynn did."

"Yeah, I heard him snoring," she said, chuckling.

Dane closed his eyes, resting his chin on his hand. He couldn't sleep with the rumbling above, but he didn't want to waste his mental faculties by thinking wastefully. He would need it to transform. She had other ideas.

"Are we cravens?" Jeanne's voice came.

"...cravens?" Dane repeated, unsure of the meaning.

Jeanne stammered. "Oh, uh…cowards. Are we cowards?"

"No. We're not."

She kept silent for a moment. "We can't sleep. And there's Flynn…like he isn't even scared."

Dane pondered, thinking about everything the clan had taught him. About what he learned from his First Nightmare.

"Be grateful for your fear. Only the dead and the mad do not feel fear," he said. Dane had been terrified of fighting that Terror or meeting the Sullied Monsters. He didn't consider himself a coward for that. He had fought with everything he had. And he had prevailed, even if by the skin of his teeth.

"You think he's mad?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. He could be, for all we know. Or, he could be just as scared as us, but he isn't letting it affect him. What do you think?"

"I think I'd like to be like him. I would love to catch up on my beauty sleep," she joked.

He tittered. "So would I. Pretty sure my uncle wouldn't like to see me all wrinkled and gray-haired when I'm back home."

There came a long pause. " 'When?' " she quoted. "Not if?"

Dane did not feel all that confident, but he remembered his conversation with his uncle.

"You're my only living blood, Dane…don't die on me," Lancel had said. And he had promised, "I won't." 

'Promises aren't meant to be broken,' he told himself. "When," he repeated firmly.