Gennadius stirs and shifts for some minutes, trying to let the sleep settle back in, but it's of no use. Torn between laziness and action at the awful hour, he intensely listens to the rain for a moment in a concerted effort to force the laziness.
Nope. His back demands another adjustment to his laying position, so instead of tossing and turning again, he sits up and grabs at his pack. A moment later he has his pouch of salt in hand and begins sprinkling it in a half-hazard circle around his bedroll. Upon completing the circle, he casts about, knowing he's not going to find any twig of spruce. Everyone knows to keep spruce handy for these moments, but somehow he managed to not think to bring one along for the journey. In a moment of inspiration, he grabs his boot, with wooden dagger sheath tied to it. Probably not spruce, but the feykin love tricks! he thinks. Standing on his bedding, he sing-songy mummers the old verse that all children know well:
"A worm came crawling
Back it stayed
For the salt and stick
Kept it away"
He then ceremoniously tosses the sheath, boot and all over his shoulder. Satisfied, he lays back down.
Several minutes later, Gennadius can't help but look to his left and right at the others sleeping. Sighing, he gets back up and, quietly, begins to sprinkle salt around the perimeter of the hut. Salt circle completed, he then stands with his back to the door, repeats the song three times for good measure, and carefully drops his booted sheath over his shoulder so it lands in the small space near the door that he excluded from the circle. (It wouldn't do to have to toss his boot out into the rain.)
Satisfied fully now, he lays back down to catch more sleep.