(Author's Note: To the ONE person who apparently is reading this, you were right. I didn't finish it because it seemed rather pointless, as no one was reading it. In truth, I started this story last year, when was still around, and people were more interested in reading fanfics involving that game. There were a few people who wanted me to finish it, but I had moved on to new projects, and hadn't had much motivation to. I made the mistake of putting up all eight chapters at once, which I think most people found rather intimidating.

Anyway, here is a really short chapter that I whipped up at work for you. Just to see if I could still do it. The story is coming back to me inbits and pieces, and hopefully, I'll find the time to keep this and CoS up. Thanks for reading.)

And as it turned out, it was. It wasn't the tension, though Yuna knew it was so thick you could have scooped it with a spoon. It wasn't the cold that seeped into the bones, despite the fire that made its best effort to blaze. It wasn't the hard ground, or any other kind of discomfort. It was the silence. Not just regular 'able to tune out backround noise' kind of silence, but the total and complete ABSENCE of any kind of sound. There was nothing, it was like trying to sleep in a void.
Kisrel lay on her side, facing the fire, watching the flames reach up and around, writhing and twisting in an intricate dance of smoke and cinders. Occasionally, the fire crackled, each pop sounding like a bomb going off, and jarring her nerves. She propped her head up on her arm, letting her eyes rove the camp for the umpteenth time.
Dom also slept on her side, facing away from the fire, into the open area beyond, curled up in a ball. While Kisrel found it oddly strange, it occured to her that if you had to spend most of your time hiding, you became use to cramped positions. And if you wanted to protect yourself while you slept, you made yourself as small a target as possible.
Lesca lay on her stomach, one arm covering her face. Next to her, but a respectful distance away, Brael slept on his back, sword resting accessibly by his side.
Kisrel hadn't seen Zavv for at least four hours. She could only assume that he was scouting the area, keeping watch.
In a way, Kisrel envied Dom. The young Al Bhed woman could sleep anywhere. Kisrel certainly didn't think of herself as a delicate thing, but her nerves were pulled so tight, she doubted she'd be able to get more than an hour's rest. She rolled over and repositioned herself, then sucked in a breath as she noticed a shape darker than the night around it. Zavv half turned his face towards her, in silent inquiry. She pushed herself up on one arm.
"When did you get back?" she asked, groggily. He put a finger to his lips, and tilted his head meaningfully in the direction of the other three. Kisrel managed to get vertical without any joints popping, and without the overwhelming sense of vertigo that usually accompanied a rapid rise. She crossed the three feet and stood next to Zavv, mimicking his position, hands clasped behind her back, feet spread apart, as if standing at attention.
"Is there anything out there?" she asked, rather pointlessly. He shook his head, blonde hair a burning red in the firelight. Long moments passed in silence, but it was comfortable. At least, at the moment, they were probably one of the only two people who didn't want to kill each other. It wasn't hard for Kisrel to sense though that he was still upset with her, and this tentative peace was as tenous as a spider's web. But the best thing about being hunted by non-human beings...it just didn't feel right to kill your own species.
Finally, he glanced down at her out of the corner of his eyes.
"You should be sleeping," he reminded her, softly. She shrugged, non-commitally, not wanting to admit her insomnia. The flames died down to glowing coals, bringing out more shadows, enhancing the contours of faces, making all appear gaunt, with sunken eyes. All except for Lesca, who apparently was able to wrap her serenity around herself like a security blanket. "You think she was born that age, and she'll stay that way eternally? The perfect follower," Kisrel mused. Zavv snorted, making his views chrystal clear. She shot a glance at him, the sides of her mouth almost turning upward.
"Are you going to stand guard all night?" she asked, concerned. He nodded, face set in stone, brooking no argument or discussion. Kisrel shook his head. If there was one thing the Al Bhed had, it was stubborness. Probably how they had managed to survive for so long. Kisrel still had to consciously supress her prejudice against the Al Bhed, it was ingrained so hard into her upbringing.
Oh well, she thought. It's still better than Guado, right?

She stood there for a little while longer, mainly out of defiance, before eventually lying back down, trying to soak in the last dissipating heat of the fire.
Eventually, her eyes closed and the world, with all its dangers, faded off into oblivion.