You had always been prone to night terrors. Usually, Cain was there to help—but Cain was just a dog.

Sometimes when it gets extreme you’ll turn to Charles.

This night is no different, you waking with cold sweat dampening your brow, heart pounding, chest heaving as you got to your feet. You slink to his tent, the only other place you feel safe.

With some hesitancy you poke your head inside, seeing Charles asleep on his cot. His strong arm is covering the slumbering man’s face.