Beneath the boundless night sky, in a crude shelter built from earth and yellowish rocks, Kup thought back to the dusk when Kraft had left his hurried instructions.
Kup opened his slightly aching eyes and forced himself to stay alert.
The flame in the hemp wick flickered, giving off the acrid stench of burning fiber and grease. If he stared too long, it felt as though the flame's black smoke were stinging his eyelids, making the backs of his eye sockets ache until he had to squint.
But after only a little while with his eyes half-closed, sleep seeped out from some corner of his mind. Before it reached his consciousness, it pushed his forehead toward the tabletop.
He had to find something to talk about, anything at all, as long as it kept him from falling asleep on watch. Peter, who was responsible for the second half of the night, had already gone to bed, and he couldn't disturb him. The only one still awake was a companion who wasn't really a companion.
"Mr. Kraft once said it was best not to read in dim light."
Kup had no intention of pursuing academics long-term and firmly followed the principle of "good enough is good enough." Still, Yvonne's habit of reading a little booklet in the middle of the night gave him an inexplicable sense of pressure, and made him feel compelled to join in this sort of self-torture.
He leaned sideways to peek at the booklet. Crooked characters followed what looked like simple illustrative sketches. The girl's instinctive thrift had made her writing cramped, and she had no guide lines. Combined with a beginner's hesitation as she put pen to paper, the result had inadvertently become even more difficult to decipher.
Even though they were learning at the