Lullaby

Jonusa always offers to take first watch. It’s second nature to the group not to ask anymore; their tensions from a vigorous day exploring lifted as they douse the campfire and shuffle into their tents, content with having the first handful of hours to sleep.

There’s four of them, including Jonusa: Theodore, the group’s pathfinder, the one currently guiding them through the forest, who led them to the clearing where they now rest for the night. Brondis, the group’s paladin, a behemoth of a woman who protects the quartet from the gargoyle spiders and starlit stags that patrol the forest, ever aware of the intruders that encroach upon their land. Hongh, the group’s magician, who uses their connection to the Divines to learn the weaknesses of those who impede their travels, and exploits the Darkness that resides deep within the hearts of men to turn them to Light.

Jonusa, a companion they picked up along their travels to the High Peak, the site of the most recent meteor crash, is their bard. Her instrument of choice is a fiddle, one of much higher quality than the rest of her attire and possessions would suggest. She does not speak much, and the only time she plays her instrument is at dusk, when she takes first watch.

Under the eyes of the night she plays a tune unlike any other the three travelers have heard. It is an original piece, nothing grand or moving; from their tents the group perceives her song to be much like a lullaby. Short, sweet, gentle, a painful reminder of home; warm beds and kissed foreheads, security and innocence. Jonusa plays it several times over without fail, and for the first time in the many weeks of their travels, Theodore leaves the tent to approach her.

He finds Jonusa with her head propped up against the log in front of the smoldering campfire, gazing up at the stars with her fiddle to her chest. She does not make any effort to let Theodore know she notices him, but he does not doubt that she does.

“That’s a pretty tune you played there,” he says, sitting cross-legged next to her.

“Thank you,” she replies. “I made it for an old friend who always struggled to sleep.”

“Where’re they now?”

A moment of silence settles between them, and mentally Theodore kicks himself. Most people in this world stick together when they find each other, unless their bond has been severed through extreme means. If there is discomfort or anguish toiling within Jonusa’s mind however, she does not express it.

“They’ve finally found their resting place.” 

Theodore notices her fingering the firefly necklace around her neck. It’s an old, slightly rusted thing, but he knows how sentimental people can be about gifts.

“Oh,” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck, “sorry ‘bout that.”

“Everyone dies, Theo. The lucky ones die quick, and in the arms of those they love.”

“And the unlucky ones?”

“They’re the ones who hold them.”

Theodore wonders why Jonusa is heading for the meteor.