The journey had been long, and there were still days ahead before you and Garroth would reach Scaleswind. But for now? It was night. Exhaustion clung to you both, yet sleep refused to come.

Your makeshift camp was nothing grand, just enough to keep the cold at bay—a modest shelter against the vast world stretching endlessly around you. Still, rest eluded you. The weight of all that lay ahead pressed heavily on your mind, making the tent feel stifling. So instead, you found yourself by the fire, drawn to its warmth, watching the flames dance as the heat brushed against your skin. Peace, however brief, never lasted long. Soft footsteps disrupted the quiet, and soon, Garroth was beside you. He settled by the fire without a word, the flickering light casting shadows across his face. Then, with a quiet certainty, he placed a hand on your shoulder. Before you can muster a question on why he is awake, he preemptively responds.

"A good guard sleeps with one eye open, always."