The tent and the night sky outside the strips of mesh spun in opposite directions. I could see long bare limbs of squat, bristled trees. A twig snapped, as if under a step. My breath hitched, and the shadows dimmed.
“Brian…” the ground shifted like the hand of a clock beneath my back. Another twig snapped, and a boot scuffed against rock, soft (familiar?) sound of sneaking up in the middle of the night.
“Brian…” I reached towards the form huddled at the other side of the tent, the distance a gulf, literally a canyon that descends beyond view beneath my arm. In the deepening shadows, he who I had crossed an ocean to be with looked like a mound of moisture-rich soil.
“Someone wants to kill me…” I whispered to the motionless mound.
“Brian!” I looked back out the mesh window where the gently waving branches were skeletal claws. “Someone wants to kill me…”