Gale was already tucked into his bedroll for the night, reading the night away to the chorus of harsh rain pelting on the roof of his tent. He had a gentle fire burning in the corner, and his spell work to keep the humidity from damaging his things had worked quite well, if he did say so himself.

A rather close strike of lightening made his tent brighten for a mere second, and the booming thunder that followed was enough to shake the earth and the tent itself. He chuckled under his breath. By the Weave. Tonight would be a rough one.

Not long after, he heard knocking on the flap of his tent, and Taveera’s voice reaching out tentatively. “Hey, Gale? Are you still awake?”