Teething
Mechanical whirring just below the cliffside roused Eden from sleep.
It was almost engulfed by the burbling of the water in the cut bank below, but quietly persistent, like a forlorn mosquito in his ear. Despite the exhaustion weighing his limbs back to earth, Eden pushed himself into a seated position, checking his mask's straps on the back of his head and kicking his capelet off his legs as he stood. The log fire’s surviving embers emphasized the way dust flew up under the heavy wool, burning each particle a glowing orange against the dark.