Always Tired

One of the reindeer nosed at his shoulder while he sat, sharpening his spearheads.

Andrev lifted his head, made a wordless sound of questioning. Something akin to motherly concern drifted over him, and Andrev shook his head. He wasn’t upset or lonely; he was tired. Always tired.

He glanced over his shoulder and watched the camp bustle with life and activity, set in a rhythm different from his own. No one was paying attention to him, so he lifted his head and shook his hair out of his eyes.

And then he heard laughter.

A girl’s laughter.

Right beside him.