ON THE fourth day, Wil was woken by a steady tapping at his nose and an annoyingly awake voice describing the breakfast that was apparently waiting for him.
"C'mon, then, I know you like porridge, and there's fish, if you want it. Bacon, some beans, and griddlecakes too, and spiced cider. It's getting cold--get up."
Wil supposed he should be pleased that Dallin was actually here for a change, but irritation crowded it out. "Gerroff." He swatted blind, then turned over and shoved a pillow over his head. "I'm *sleeping*."
"You've *been* sleeping."
"'S 'cause 'm *tired*."
"It's because you're stubborn and sulking."
Wil didn't even dignify that one with an answer. He wormed his hand from beneath the fur, rumbled a growl, and flipped Dallin off.