Later the same day, while the entire crew had found sleep.
The moon hung low, casting silver streaks across the still sea.
The camp lay silent behind Arthur, the soft crackle of the dying fire and the rhythmic snoring of his companions fading into the distance as he ventured toward the spring water stream.
He had miscalculated.
He assumed the restless energy coursing through him was his own, a natural response to the tranquility of the island's night, but the truth was simpler and more ironic.
By seeping Melite's stamina earlier, he had inadvertently taken on some energy, leaving himself unable to fall asleep.
The sharp clarity of his thoughts and the persistent buzz in his muscles made restan impossibility, a small price to pay for ensuring Fedlimid's success in their challenge. Yet now, as the camp slumbered peacefully around him, Arthur found himself wide awake, walking around the camp under the pale moonlight.
