Crombie takes first watch

Crombie made sure his horse was settled before anything else.

The big storm-grey draft horse stood calmly near the edge of the camp, already unsaddled and being looked after by one of the younger traders. Crombie ran a large blue hand down the animal’s thick neck, feeling the solid warmth beneath the winter coat. The horse turned its head and nudged his shoulder gently.

He still hadn’t given it a name.

“Merchant says your steed is safe with him,” one of the guards called over as he passed. “Torren’s got him on a long line near the supply wagons. Good hands. Won’t let anything happen to him.”

Crombie gave a short nod of thanks. He lingered another moment, stroking the horse’s muzzle, then turned back toward the glowing outline of the enchanted shelter.

The structure the wizards had raised was impressive. From the outside it looked like little more than a faint shimmer in the air — a soft distortion that made the camp beyond it difficult to see clearly. The cold wind still cut across the clearing, but inside that barrier the temperature was already rising to something comfortable.

He could hear the party clearly, though.

Laughter. Music. The low thump of a hand drum someone had pulled out. Joy’s lute was in there somewhere too, bright and lively. The sound carried easily through the magical barrier, even if sight and scent were muffled. It made the hidden shelter feel almost alive from the outside — warm, noisy, full of life while the freezing night pressed in around it.

Crombie stepped up to the shimmering edge and spoke clearly.

“I’ll take first watch.”

A few heads turned inside. Master Torren’s voice carried out easily.

“Appreciated, big man. We’ll rotate every few hours. You need anything before you start?”

Crombie shook his head. “I’m good.”

He turned away from the barrier and moved to a good vantage point — a slight rise near the tree line where he could see both the road and the faint shimmer of the shelter. The cold bit harder out here. His breath fogged in the air. He rolled his shoulders and settled into a steady stance, halberd planted butt-first in the frozen ground, shield resting against his leg.

A few minutes later, soft footsteps approached from behind.

Joy appeared out of the shimmer carrying two thick blankets and a small flask. She had changed into a heavier travelling cloak, but it was still cut to move easily. Her tawny fur fluffed slightly against the cold, and her large green eyes caught the faint magical light as she smiled up at him.

“Figured you could use company,” she said, voice low and warm. “And maybe something to take the edge off the cold.”

She held up the flask and gave it a little shake. The scent of spiced wine drifted between them.

Crombie glanced at her, then back toward the road. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Joy stepped closer, close enough that her shoulder almost brushed his arm. “I want to.”

She spread one of the blankets over a fallen log and sat, patting the space beside her. When Crombie didn’t move right away, she tilted her head, ears flicking.

“Come on, Crombie. It’s freezing out here and the party sounds like it’s going to go all night. Might as well be comfortable while we watch each other’s backs.”

He studied her for a moment — the playful curve of her mouth, the way her tail curled loosely around her ankle, the open interest in her eyes that hadn’t dimmed since the road that morning. Then he sat beside her on the log, the wood creaking under his weight.

Joy draped the second blanket across both of them. It wasn’t quite big enough for his frame, so she ended up tucked in close against his side, her warmth seeping through his blue fur. She passed him the flask.

They sat in silence for a little while, listening to the muffled sounds of music and laughter coming from inside the barrier. Every so often a particularly loud burst of noise would carry clearly across the clearing.

Joy eventually spoke, voice soft.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Crombie took a slow sip from the flask before answering. “Not usually.”

She laughed quietly — a low, purring sound. “That’s alright. I talk enough for two.” She leaned a little more into his side, her tail brushing against his leg beneath the blanket. “But I like the quiet ones. They usually have the most interesting things going on behind their eyes.”

She turned her head to look up at him. The cold had put a faint flush across her muzzle, and her green eyes were bright.

“You’re carrying that chest like it’s part of you now,” she said. “And that elf… Allareon. He watches you almost as much as I do.” Her smile turned a little sharper, more teasing. “Should I be jealous already?”

Crombie’s ears twitched. He didn’t answer right away.

Joy didn’t push. She just stayed pressed against his side, warm and soft and deliberately close, her tail occasionally flicking against his thigh under the blanket. The sounds of the lively party drifted around them — music, laughter, the occasional cheer — while the freezing wind moved through the trees beyond the clearing.

Out here, just the two of them on watch, the night felt smaller. More intimate.

Joy took the flask back from him, took a sip, then offered it again. Her fingers brushed his as she passed it over.

“So,” she murmured, voice dropping lower, “how long do you think we have before someone comes to relieve us?”

She was watching his face now, close enough that he could feel her breath against his fur when she spoke.

And she was still smiling that same slow, knowing smile.