Evening Camp

The woven rattan beneath my boots was a little too ridged for a proper bunk. Scouting the backrest, I found the hem of a soft flannel throw blanket dangling right within reach. I gripped the heavy fabric and hauled up a couple of neat folds, tucking the frayed fringe underneath to make a level bedroll against the chair's wooden arm. I gave the padding two solid pats to test the loft—sturdy enough to hold up through the night. Leaning back against the polished spindle, I let my boots rest and took in the quiet room. Patrol was done, and camp was finally set.