Opening his eyes once again, he saw the same darkness, as if it were still night.
Outside the tent, it looked as if the gloomy weather was enclosing everything.
"Wake up! Little Gold Coin!" Uncle Ron hurried back to the tent, waking up the young man before dashing out again.
Brandon rubbed his sleepy eyes, feeling an unprecedentedly comfortable and sweet sleep.
It seemed like he had slept for quite a long time, not only did he not dream of those ghastly clawing corpses and ghosts, but his body also felt a bit stiff from lying down for so long.
Gradually coming to his senses, he heard the noise of the crowd from the refugee camp outside, as if discussing something.
Reaching for his short sword, Brandon crawled out of the tent.
The temperature outside was unusually cold and gloomy, a stark contrast to the summer heat of the past days.
The dim visibility was like it had just turned night, or as if it was the dark just before dawn.
