Sneaky

Chapter 35

I finished applying the band-aid Dale gave me at dinner to my temple. I don't know if it's entirely in place, because what do you know I can't see my own head without some sort of reflection, but it feels like it's in place so I'm gonna call it my day's one and only win.

I flopped back on my sleeping bag, flinching when the bruises touched down and stared at the fabric roof.

I'm tired, I know I am, but my mind is too awake to sleep. And my back hurts.

I rolled onto my side, taking the pressure off one bruise field and seemingly onto another. It's gonna be a long night.

I shifted around for what felt like forever before giving in to the position that hurt the least and grabbed the small flashlight out of my backpack pocket.

Without my clothes clogging up space in my bag, it was easy to find the copy of one of my favorite books Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and flip to a random page.

Hitchhiker's Guide is one of the few books where random starting is actually fun. I've read it almost 30 times so I don't get lost anymore, but it's not like you really know what's going on anyway.

~

I let my eyelids drift shut, to let them eyes rest for a moment but when I opened them again, it was bright.

Shuffling, clinking, and rustling came from outside my tent while people moved about but I don't wanna get up so I closed my eyes again.

The warm sunlight streaming into my tent acting as the perfect space heater. The warm glowing feeling only sunlight is capable of providing.

Not too hot, not cold; goldilocks would be proud.

I don't know how my book managed to stay on my chest all night, but my legs tangled in the blanket and pulled my pants in all sorts of uncomfortable.

I could have gone back to sleep after some minor adjustments, except there's one problem. I don't have a blanket.

I looked down, and nope, that is not my sleeping bag like I thought it may have been but I recognize it. It's Dale's, and it was most definitely not here last night when I went to sleep.

Turning over, my book fell from my chest as I reached for my stuff; checking to see if it was all still here. My gear is still here, untouched, and as far as I can tell nothing's missing.

What I can't figure out is why someone would come into my tent and put a blanket on me. It was probably Dale, seeing as how this is one of his blankets.

What concerns me more is that I didn't wake up when someone opened my tent—...did I...close it last night?

I don't remember if I did. Did I turn off the flashlight?

I reached for the light and clicked it on. Well the batteries isn't dead so I must have. Or someone else did.

A sizzle from outside drew my eyes to the door flap, partially closed, and the smell of food wafted through.

All thoughts about who was in my tent last night dispelled at the smell of eggs and I groggily tossed aside my things and stretched my back out; twisting in ways that feel amazing but probably look like I broke my spine.

Several joints and bones popped and muscles stretched in bliss until I was satisfied.

I rolled onto my stomach, pushing up onto my knees and basked in the warmth before rolling up my sleeping bag and getting it out of the way.

My tent's not big, it ain't small but small enough that the bag feels in the way if I don't roll it up. Plus I'd like to be able to just grab it and go, should I need to.