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Alix woke screaming at the top of his lungs.

He had endured a countless number of sleepless nights in his lifetime, and out of all of them, this was by far the worst one in a long time. A cold sweat dampened his skin, and he panted heavily.

Panting, he tried to regulate his breathing and heartbeat -to little avail-, attempting to calm himself. It did no good at all to remember that night.

He finally managed to relax slightly, though adrenaline still pounded through his head like the thundering beat of horses' hooves, his heart raced, and his breathing was still too fast.

He leaned back on the heels of his hands, letting his head fall back to be supported against his slumped shoulders, and stared unseeing towards the pale stars shining mockingly above him.

Calm down. It's not real, not anymore...not to me.

The painfully slow minutes began to pass, faster and faster, and the excrutiating terror that still lingered from his dream began to fade. Finally, he could breath easily again, and think clearly.

Still, though, his body yearned for sleep, despite himself. His eyes were half-closed, and he fought to sit up and stay away.

He didn't dare close his eyes, though, lest the memories of that night came back to haunt him once again.

Deciding that action would be the only thing that could keep him awake, he stood up, quickly gathering enough wood for a decent fire from the surrounding area, at least enough to last a few hours. Once gathered, he whispered a word quietly, barely to be heard in the silent of the night.

A tongue of flames licked at the upper part of the pile of kindling, quickly spreading to the rest of the wood, snapping and sending embers flying.
He watched the fire grow until satisfied with it, then sat back down, tucking his legs under himself again. His energy was depleted by the spell. Though starting such a small fire wouldn't take that much of a toll on him at other times, the sudden loss of energy while he was already tired drained him.
He grabbed the leather bag from where he had laid it at his side, pulling a piece of bread from it. That bag holds all of my worldly possessions, he thought grimly.

He gnawed on the bread as the night went by, more from nervousness than real hunger. He was far too close to his birthplace for comfort.
And so he sat there, next to the dying embers of the fire, until dawn broke, shedding its light down upon the world below, paying no mind to the worries of the land. As the sun began it's lazy float over the horizon, Alix stiffly stood.

He was quite sore, from both sitting there for so long without moving, and also from his most recent bruises. He had gotten into quite a skirmish the day before indeed. Apparently a man doesn't appreciate it when you steal one of their possessions and kill five of their warriors in the process.

He kicked dirt onto the fire, stamping it out quickly. Soon, all evidence of him being ever being there was gone.

He grabbed his bag and left.