It was late, but he wasn’t tired. That was nothing new, really. He was fairly certain he could be diagnosed with insomnia, but that didn’t bother him. He enjoyed staring up at the night sky, with all its stars spreading across the expanse of darkness, and the glowing white face of the moon. He’d say this to no one, but it felt often as if he was rejuvenated during the night under the light of its rays--especially on a full moon. He didn’t think about it much. Such thoughts led to the pulling feeling he couldn’t define. The voice in his dreams he sometimes heard, and the memories--vague and misshapen of some other time where he wasn’t human. It always made him wake with a feeling as if his skin was wrong, as if things weren’t quite right.
He let out a soft huff of breath as he sat up from his sleeping bag. The abandoned building was quiet. He heard the snoring of his current companion, not one he was sure would continue on with him. There’s was a tenuous relationship, made only by the mutual reason that they were travelers with no real destination except that elusive feeling. He was sure Hige thought him crazy.
Kiba rose, quiet if not for the soft tap of his Converse on concrete. The light of day was just creeping into the darkness. He could see the sun’s rays brightening the horizon, soon to wake the other. Time to get moving, no matter his own lack of rest. Another hunt for some dishwashing job that would get him a few dollars to stay in a motel--money he had now. He couldn’t explain what had drew him to the building, only that it had, and nothing had come of it (or perhaps, he’d failed to find that something). Couldn’t dwell on that now, though.
“Hige,” He said, hardly raising his voice. “Wake up.”
