The faintly glowing campfire lit up barely a few meters around it, which was perfectly fine when you didn't have eyes, and thus didn't need any light to see. Femur once more let out a deep sigh, thinking back on the circumstances that had led him there.

He'd been put on watch duty as soon as the elven necromancer realized that he wouldn't have to sleep, which according to her would save them several weeks worth of time getting to the border of the wraithband. The wraithband was the mountainrange that separated man and demon, standing as an impassable wall between their lands. The few known paths through the great obstacle, were winding, narrow and deadly, which was the reason for the demons not launching a full scale assault on the much smaller human territory. Femur, as the commoner he was, naturally didn't know even half of this, which had been why Elevenar had to inform him over the course of their journey. It had only been a few days, but they had both warmed up to him rather quickly.

Femur glanced at the sleeping shapes of his elven companions, wishing once again that something exciting would happen, or better yet, that he was capable of sleeping. While the days were boring and repetative, traveling through identical forests and plains, the nights were almost excruciating in how tedious they were. Sitting still, at the exact same spot, would make him harder to notice, sure, but it was also possibly the most boring thing a sapient lifeform could experience. While Femur knew that this was preferable to having his compadriots killed by some wild canine, his wandering thoughts frequently turned in the direction of bloodshed and death. Any outsider looking at the camp would only see two sleeping people covered by their blankets, and an old skeleton laying on the ground for some inexplicable reason. Undead were far from common outside of dungeons, and the average bandit wouldn't even think of the possibility of encountering one.

Elevenars prone body started moving, abruptly interrupting Femurs train of thought. He turned his head in her direction with an almost reptilian movement, speaking for the first time in hours.

"took you a while, elf. I was just about to check your pulse in case you died in your sleep. Old people sometimes do, i've heard"

Elevenar smiled slightly, focusing her still tired eyes on him.

"Well, one of us atleast has flesh, mr talking skeleton. I bet you wouldn't be so skinny if you ate sometimes!"

The friendly banter continued while Elevenar cleaned herself with a spell, packed the blanket, and started making breakfast. Soon, the smell of cooking meat woke her slightly less elderly apprentice, who took atleast twice as long to ready himself for the day. As apprentice, necromancer and skeleton sat down, with the former two digging into the provided food, Femur for the first time in his new life felt content.