He picked his way, expertly, among the sleeping forms, sprawled about the camp, silent, and at ease.
He tiptoed over to a corner wherein a sack of potatoes was slumped against a crate. On closer the sack of potatoes was seen to a small human, tied in a tangle of rug.
"Mora," he said, low-voiced, to his wife.
A half-asleep, "Yeah, mmhmm?" was mumbled, and all eyes remained closed.
He leaned farther over.
"Mora?"
"What?" she grumble-mumbled, still half-asleep.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
That woke her up—a little.
Mora's opened one eye a crack. She raised her eyebrows.
"What?" she asked.
Her husband grinned and shrugged.
She closed her eyes again.
"Nothing," she answered.
Her husband sat down on the crate.
"No, really," he said.
This time she opened both eyes. Then closed them, and shrugged.
"In that case: everything."
He grinned—but didn't answer.
Eventually she cracked an eye again, seeing him still perched above her on the crate.
"You look like a vulture, up there," she informed him. "Go scare somebody else."
"Everyone else is asleep."
"As was I, before I was so rudely awakened. Shoo."
He waited until she was breathing evenly again, shrugged, and picked his way back through the tangle of sleeping forms, and grinning a little.
Mora cracked an eye, watching him leave. Strange being. She never understood him. Still, she half-smiled, the simple question was nice.
Then she rolled her eyes. Apparently it didn't take much to make her happy, these days.
But she smiled anyway.
XxxXxxX
Author's Note: These unfortunate characters are the result of a monstrously long and cumbersome brainchild that I will hopefully never subject the internet to. Suffice it to say that this couple, a convenience marriage, live in the bookverse version of Hunchback of Notre Dame and I have a weakness for meaningless oneshots.