A Deep Sleep

The fire was ash when Bob woke up.

Traveller was already packing their bedroll. Their movements were neat. Bob copied them. His bedroll was a messy bundle.

They ate the last of their bread as they walked. The air was cool. The silence between them was different now. It was a good quiet. Bob walked with a small bounce, tapping trees with his stick-sword.

The trees thinned out. The grass went away. The ground became hard and rocky.

Soon, the path was a narrow line between big, grey stones. It felt like walking in a canyon. The happy bug sounds were gone. It was very quiet.

Three people stepped out from behind the rocks.

They were not like the people in Mokhaven. Their clothes were dirty. Their faces were mean. They held a club and rusty knives. They blocked the path.

Traveller stopped. They felt different. Colder. They pushed Bob behind their back with one smooth move.

"Move," Traveller's voice said. It was flat. Like a stone.

The man with the club laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Look what we have here. A robed mystery and their little pet. Give us your coin and—"

He did not finish.

Traveller moved. A blur of white. Bob peeked from behind the robe. His hand was tight on his stick-sword.

The thin, dark sword was in Traveller's hand. It did not shine.

The man with the club stepped forward. The sword flashed. There was no loud sound. Just a soft sigh. The man's eyes went wide. He dropped his club. He fell. He did not move.

The other two shouted. They charged.

The blade flashed again. Once. Twice. Two more soft sounds.

Then, it was quiet again.

It was over in five breaths.

The three people were on the ground. They looked like they were sleeping.

Traveller stood still. The cold feeling went away. The sword was gone. They turned and looked down at Bob.

Bob was not scared. He was confused. The people were not moving. He stepped out and walked a little closer. He tilted his head.

He looked up at Traveller. "They... sleepy?"

Traveller looked at the still figures. A long, quiet moment passed.

"Yes, Bob," Traveller's voice was soft again. "They are sleeping. A very deep sleep."

They paused.

"The kind you don't wake up from."

The words were simple. Bob did not fully understand. People sleep. People wake up.

But a strange feeling was in his chest. A quiet, hollow ache.

The kind you don't wake up from.

He had heard that before. A long time ago. He did not know where. But he remembered the feeling. This quiet, hollow ache.

He looked at the sleeping men. And for the first time, he felt a little sad for strangers.