“Get up, Fuzzball! I don’t like to admit it, but this mission can’t start without you!”

If Somna’a hated one thing, then it was being woken by a booming highlander voice blaring into his tent! And he hated stormy weather. And cold coffee. And fish. And having sand in his boots. Thinking of it, he hated many things. If he could make two or more checks on his hatelist now, he would hate the whole mission. But he was lucky. No stormy weather but the quiet, still dark hours in the early morning. His boots on his feet were still sandfree… and as for the coffee, well that was something to be found out.

The Miqo’te groaned a bit as he sat up, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes. His light headache told him he had had not enough of it. Outside of his left open tent he heard the chatter from the camp, a quiet Kweh of a sleepy Chocobo. Oh, that was something that he loved. Chocobos. A pity he usually wasn’t the one riding them into battle or on trade routes but just the sellsword defending the asses of their riders for example. But for tonights mission the feathery friends would stay here anyway. They would all be on foot. And this small highlander company needed Somna’a’s good nightsight. Sometimes it’s a boon here to be a Keeper of the Moon in between all those Seekers and mostly Highlander folk.

Before his superior would yell at him again, the Miqo’te crawled out of his tent and gave his body a good stretch, allowing his weapons, two double swords, to still get some rest next to his bed while he went on search for coffee. He found it a few tents away, given to him in a steaming mug and with a nice smile of Nyra, the cook, on top of that for free. Somna’a grinned charmingly, showing his fangs and bowed his head as the warmth of the mug was between his hands. Nyra giggled.

“Hurry up with that, Lad! You’ll get awake during our climb up the mountains!” boomed that deep voice again from behind Somna’a as he had just taken a few steps away from the cooking tent and his functioning reflexes told him to make a swift half turn to the source of the voice to not experience those shoulder shoves again that Hargrim likes to do so often. He meant it friendly, but being a smaller (not fragile!) Miqo’te, Somna’a had found himself spilling whatever he had in his hands that moment too often for his liking. And the precious warm coffee must be protected! Hargrim, the strongly build Highlander with his short black hair and beard had already pulled his right paw up to do the swing but stopped, as Somna’a’s bright green eyes faced him.

“Easy here, Sir. I have to load up that nightsight that you need with this black stuff here first.”

Somna’a said cheekily, lowering his chin to take a sip but not averting his gaze from the taller Man before him. He knew it wasn’t a way to speak with a superior, but he found he could stretch his allowed behavior a bit, because he was well aware that the mission wouldn’t start without him anyway. And Hargrim already knew of Somna’a’s pride. In return he himself had his options to tease the Keeper. By giving him nicknames for example. Another thing that Somna’a hated.

“Sure, Plushpaw.” the Gladiator said while crossing his massive arms, but smiling thinly “But if you want me to concider you for the following mission, too, you better get your Fluffytail moving in five minutes.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be ready in four.” Somna’a said assuringly.

Hargrim grinned, loosened his crossed arms… and gave the Keeper a friendly, but strong smack against the shoulder anyway before leaving him so that Somna’a had to quickly channel his reflexes again to not spill coffee somewhere. He growled and watched the Gladiator leave towards the middle of the camp, illuminated by some torches.

“He likes you.” came from Nyra, while she was cleaning some mugs in her open tent.

“He doesn’t have to like me, he should just give me coin for my work.”

“Sure. But it isn’t a bad thing when the coin is given with a smile rather than a scowl, right?”

Somna’a just rolled his eyes a bit which the highlander woman couldn’t see, because he was still standing with his back to her, his gaze towards his comrades. But Nyra saw that short uneasy flick of his ears and just smiled knowingly.

Somna’a emptied his mug in some more big sips and gave it back to Nyra.

”Stay safe while we are away, would you?” he said softly.

“Keep my husband and the others safe, while you are out there, would you?” she replied with a straight face. It was not mockery. It was the need to trust.

The Keeper nodded, smiled again and then picked up the pace to his tent, to grab his blades, binding his shoulder long hair up into a messy bun so it wouldn’t distract him if fighting would occur. The orders from Ala Mhigo were clear and unchanged since its liberation: Defend if neccessary but take prisoners as priority.

Somna’a would have given different orders, but he was neither Raubahn Aldynn, nor Lyse Hext. He was just a grain of sand. One of many. Of many who had lost something to the empire he would never get back. In his mind not a single Garlean would deserve forgiveness. Not even those poor, desperate dogs still out there, cut off from any legion since Ala Mhigo was free.

One of those dog nests lay up a small mountain pass, not far from this resistance camp. They had planned this nightly surprise attack for some days now and the night was tranquil, quiet. As if it held its breath. The moon was just a small sickle, but it was still enough light for Somna’a’s Keeper Eyes.