“Exactly.”
“Marlowe?”
“At our feet.”
The dog opened his eyes at the sound of his name.
Noah lifted his head enough to see him.
Marlowe’s tail struck the mattress once.
“Useless animal,” Noah muttered. “You were supposed to guard me.”
Marlowe yawned.
“He subcontracted the work.”
“To you?”
“Yes.”
Noah settled against my shoulder again.
For a moment, the room remained still.
Then he said, “I slept better.”
“So did I.”
“Even after the nightmare.”
“After it, yes.”
He looked toward the green lamp, pale now in the morning light.
“The other dream came back.”
“The three sounds?”
“Yes.”
“Anything new?”
His brow tightened.
“Two short. One long.”
He pursed his lips and tried to imitate it, but only a thin breath emerged.
“It isn’t a ship horn.”
“Maybe a whistle.”
“Maybe.”
Two fingers touched the center of his chest.
“When I hear it, I feel it here.”
