The night passed quietly, or as quietly as a stable full of animals could be.
Darion woke to the sound of chickens clucking and goats bleating, their voices mixing with the soft snorts of the horses and the heavy breathing of the Moatts.
The candle had burned down to a stub, its flame flickering weakly in the dim morning light that filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls.
He stretched his arms above his head, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders and back.
Sleeping against a wall had not been kind to his body. His neck was sore from being twisted at an awkward angle, and his legs were cramped from sitting in one position for too long.
He groaned softly as he stood, his joints popping.
Around him, the others were waking up too. Garren was already on his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked the stiffness out of his limbs.
