Creative Writing: Percy's Expansion

The forest surrounding Whitestone had been far colder than anyone except Grog was accustomed to. Even Percy had spent so much time in the south that he was affected by the biting wind, which grew colder as the evening drew on, and the sun set without hardly peeking out from behind the looming cloud cover once. Shadows, moist and dark as mold, creep across the upper floors of the inn.

“I wish Pike were here,” Keyleth says aloud, laying out her bedroll.

“Me too,” Grog says, through a full mouth, as he rustles through the bag of holding.

Scanlan, face down on his bedroll, his purple shirt a pooling blotch against the floor, gives a thumbs up before his hand flops back down to his side.

“We all do,” says Vax, entering the small room.

“He said he can handle the watch.” Vax rubs the tips of his ears to warm them, then crawls in next to Trinket and drops Trinket’s paw across his chest, prompting a pleased rumble from the bear.

Keyleth sits back on her heels, absently rubbing her palms along her thighs. The oppressive moistness of Whitestone weighs on her exposed skin, making goosebumps to rise across her bare upper arms.

“Should we — I don’t know, guys, is leaving him alone the best idea?” Keyleth pulls her blanket up over her knees and scooches a little closer to Scanlan, who rolls closer until he’s pressed against her side, with hardly a grumble.

“He’s...kind of fucked up, but I don’t think we have to worry about him sneaking out,” Vax

"...half-elf sandwich," Scanlan says, sounding a little resigned and slightly pleased.

"Ew," Vex says from the other side of Trinket, at the same time as Keyleth says, “Gross.”

Keyleth falls asleep eventually, once her teeth stop chattering and she stops shivering, despite Scanlan kneeing her in the upper thigh a couple times as he drops off to sleep.

She’s woken by what sounds like a muted scuffle, followed by someone swearing quietly, and has bolted half-upright, her antler circlet clattering several inches along the floorboards, before Percy hisses, “Hold it, hold it, it’s only me! I can’t see shit.”

“Percy? Shit, sorry.” Keyleth worms one of her hands out from under the blanket and ignites it. The gray tones of the room flare for a moment, and then settle into faint, orange tinted shadows.

“Thank you.” Percy glances over the sleeping forms of the twins, snuggled on opposite sides of the gently snoring bear, at Scanlan, still burrowed against Vax’s side. He pulls his coat tighter around him and steps over Grog’s legs. The flickering shadows cast by Keyleth’s hand soften his features, easing but not erasing the circles beneath his eyes, and the tense set of his face. He makes his way to the other side of Keyleth, and lies down with his back to her, a good foot of chilly air between