Vilon woke to a painful, rattling jolt, his cheek mashed uncomfortably against something hard and swerved. He forced his crusty eyelids open, groaning at the sudden, sharp spike of pain in his neck as he raised his head away from the gnarled, mossy root he had been using as a excuse for a pillow.
The rest of his body was barely any more comfortable than his neck. He stretched the best he could from his cramped, half-sitting position, his joints popping like dry twigs.
Last night, the skies had opened up in a relentless rain, forcing him and Owen to take desperate refuge beneath the heavy, leaf-covered canopy of a massive oak, one of the few ancient trees in the valley that could still boast about sporting green leaves to shield them in the dead of winter.
He rowdied himself awake, squinting as a bright, piercing ray of light caught him dead in the eyes from a barely raised su—
Wait. Sun?
Vilon blinked hard.
