A Silent Reconnaissance

Silence. I opened my eyes. The dimly lit room stretched out before me, quiet and shadowed. I tested my right arm. The joint responded smoothly, silent and under control. I turned slightly away from the line of still figures resting against the pillow. A few inches ahead on the teal fabric lay a small, crumpled wrapper scrap. I reached out a gloved hand and pressed down on it, testing the friction. The crinkle was barely audible. Good. I paused, sank into a low resting stance on the dark fabric, and held position.