The second had come not long after. Jane had drawn the first watch, which had been fine with her, as the liquor Gunther had shared with her had been burning and tingling pleasantly throughout her body, keeping her beautifully warm and spreading a sense of contentment and well-being through her. She hadn't wanted to sleep; she'd wanted to stay awake awhile and savor this feeling. Yes, she'd been very pleased about drawing first watch.
Gradually the men had all settled down into their bedrolls, grouped about the dying fire. At first there had been the rustling of bodies attempting to get comfortable on the hard ground, a few grunts and whispers and murmured good-nights. Then the men had quieted, their breathing had evened out, and other than the occasional soft snore, silence had reigned over the camp. Jane, sitting propped against the trunk of a nearby tree, had allowed the quiet to wash over her, enjoying the solitude, the soft creaks and sighs of the forest all around her, the furtive scurryings of small nocturnal creatures in the underbrush.
That sense of peace, of "all is well" - surely that had been the second mistake.
OOOOO
Nearly an hour later, Jane had still been tingling pleasantly from the contents of Gunther's flask - it was strong, whatever it was that he carried around with him. Out of the corner of her eye she had noticed a flicker of movement; instantly alert, she'd seen a shadowy figure approaching her from over by the bedrolls. She'd known immediately who it was, even in the dark - she could make out just enough to recognize his shape, the way he moved.
Of course she'd known him. She'd know him anywhere. She was in love with him, wasn't she? Had been at least since she was fourteen years old, and now she was nearly nineteen.
Finally, completely embracing that fact, when she'd trying (unsuccessfully, true, but still trying) to deny it for so long, had probably been the third mistake.