Whew. Got in just under the wire, today. 1720 words, most of them wrenched right past a nasty block. Strangest thing I've written on, I think, is meal tickets while I'm working. They work just as well as anything else, though, and they're the only thing on hand.

Last bit I wrote:

Looking down at his feet, Leikr realized, unhappily, that he was going to have to go tromping around in a forest barefoot, because it wasn’t like he was the sort who wore his boots to bed. If he’d known this was going to happen, maybe he would have. Maybe he would in the future, now. Maybe he’d have special boots made for sleeping in because it wasn’t like you could sleep in combat boots or the constricting affairs that Mieli had foisted on him.