Dromaeus woke much earlier than normal that morning. His eyes opened and immediately he twisted his neck, looking all around, a hand on his dagger. With great effort he struggled out of his bedroll, stumbling to his feet. Once more he cursed his cold-blooded lethargy, but tonight he was not about to stay off guard until the sun rose. Moving slowly and awkwardly, he started to build a fire to warm up, glaring into the darkness around them as he did so.