The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 8 - Sleeping Arrangements

"G' night." Lockes curled up on their vines.

One last grooming of Vye's plumes, the Shols curled up together, one lump of fluff pressed against the other.

Zeal hoisted an arm up in response, grimacing as the movement brought a sharp pang in the frostbitten flesh of his side.

They were all gathered around the flames, with Lockes assuring them that the fire would not burn out nor lick past the heated stones.

"It's a warded fire pit. The enchantment will keep it from extinguishing while remaining within." They had explained.

The fire did indeed dim, to make it easier to sleep, but never went out.

The steady waves of warmth that washed over them was blissful after such long weeks in the cold.

It was in the late hours after they retired, that Hemlocke awoke to the sound of movement.

The Reaper.

Forcing the luminescent rings of their eyes to dim, they felt through the extended vines, and their brows knit.

What was he doing?

Lockes barked in alarm as an arm wrapped around their torso and jerked them out of the nest, dragging them back to be smothered against a stiff wall, binding them.

They growled irritably. So this was how they wanted to play.

Idiot. The vines would be enough to make short work of him, injured as he is.

But a soft snore gave them pause.

Was the Reaper asleep? Staring incredulously at Zeal, Lockes noted that he was indeed in deep sleep.

The small fluff in the coils was shifting, and confused, sleepy eyes peered down from the coils.

What were they doing tousling so late at night? ...and more importantly why didn't they include him? He wanted to in on the fun too.

Spotting his sleeping guardian, it seemed to dawn on him then, and Vye gave a helpless shrug of the shoulders at the dark Shol.

He just does that.

The small Shol clambered down and nestled against the other two, and moments after he'd made himself comfortable, Zeal swiped the newest addition up too.

Bundled up against him, it was almost like being back with his Circle.

Only Zeal wasn't a Shol. And he wasn't soft. Or comfortable. At all.

Vye frowned from where he was smushed against a very much stiff wall. He could feel every rib as he was pressed against the slumbering mercenary.

Nowhere near as soft as his brethren. Even the soft of his belly wasn't the least bit comfy. Or soft for that matter. What a lie fleshling anatomy was.

It was probably why Zeal grabbed them in the first place.

Shols were very soft.

But there was one compromise in all of the discomfort.

Zeal exuded warmth.

Vye melted where he was, tucked in Zeal's hold.

Despite all the bony ridges and uncomfortably stiff edges, Vye felt his eyes droop. And--Vye hid his smile--from the look of things, Hemlocke was struck by the same drowsiness.

It was an almost instinctual response.

The warmth of the sun is so very inviting and tantalizing to the children of the Verdance, and they would lay in a golden patch for hours, snoozing and basking in the warmth that they themselves lacked.

Shols produced a pitiable amount of warmth, and with the exception of the Highland Shols, were highly susceptible to the cold.

In the cold of night they collectively gathered in hollows or dens to nest.

The warmth was comforting.