Sleep didn't come. Revan hadn't expected it to.
He lay in the dark for what felt like an hour but was probably twenty minutes, staring at the warped ceiling of the dining carriage.
The fire Dain had ordered built inside the car was doing its job, barely. The flames burned a strange blue-white color. Something about the Dead Zone's atmosphere was stripping the warmth from combustion itself.
It gave light but no comfort, like a lantern behind glass.
Around him, the survivors had arranged themselves with the instinctive geometry of people who didn't trust each other. Dain sat by the door, awake, broadsword across his knees.
The three mobile guards had clustered near the fire. Two sleeping in shifts, one watching the southern window.
Cassian had taken the far corner, the one with the best sightlines to both exits. He sat with his back against the wall, coat buttoned to the collar, eyes closed.
Whether he was actually sleeping was anyone's guess.
