A thin veil of mist crawled low, shrouding the Eastmarch grasslands as dawn greeted the second day of their journey. Roland woke up feeling remarkably lighter. It seemed yesterday's exhaustion had forced him into a restorative slumber, or perhaps his body was finally acclimating to the constant jolting of the carriage. On the other side of the camp, Rianor had been sitting upright since before the first light of day, poring over his maps under the dim glow of a small lantern.
"Do you ever actually sleep?" Roland asked, crawling out of the tent. He rubbed his bleary eyes, his hair standing up in every possible direction.
Rianor didn't look up. His fingers traced the faded lines on the old parchment. "I sleep. Just not for long."
"Tsk, that's not sleep. That's just 'standby mode' for machines." Roland spat to clear the bitter morning taste from his mouth.
