Chapter Thirty-Four

Jenner scanned through the papers that the Scribe had just given him.
"Very good, very good." He muttered, riffling through the pages.
"Seventeen hundred bushels of turnips from Sussexshire? That's more than
any other two Shires combined." He commented with obvious delight. A
moment later, one of the reports caught his eye. "What's this?" He
asked, shoving the paper down in front of the hedgehog who was waddling to keep
in step with his King.

The hedgehog grabbed at the paper and fumbled with it for a moment. Jenner
put on an air of irritated disdain. But secretly, the fat little creature
amused him to no end with his unintentional antics. "Just a moment! Just a
moment!" The hedgehog squeaked. "Uh...Ah, yes! It says:
'Nottinghamshire, no report', your Majesty."

Jenner snatched the paper from the hedgehog's paws. "I know WHAT it
says you spineless dolt!" Jenner said sternly. "What I want to know
is WHY it says that!"

The hedgehog cowered in fear, his quills rattling as he shook. "I, uh,
I'm not sure, your Majesty! The courier reported that the Sheriff has been away
for the past couple of days and left no orders for his Deputy-in-Charge!"
He blurted.

Jenner frowned and stopped, the platoon of guards that surrounded him doing
the same. "Odd." He said. "I wonder if it has anything to do
with that letter he sent me a few days ago."

The hedgehog was about to answer, but a warning glance from the
Troop-Captain made him think better of his words and he remained silent. The
letter from the Sheriff had sent Jenner into a rage the likes of which had
never been seen before. For over an hour, the King had raged through the castle
breaking any object and tearing down any tapestry which even remotely reminded
him of his adopted brother's rule. His temper had then cooled enough that he'd
gone to his quarters, threatening a horrible death to anyone who disturbed him
for any reason. The next day he had ordered that all objects bearing the crest
of the House PenWallace, Nicodemus's family, be either destroyed or have the
crest removed and replaced with that of the House Argellaeus, the family of
which Jenner had been the only survivor.

Jenner shrugged. "I'll give the good Sheriff a few more days. Perhaps
he's just busy supervising his charges and motivating them to work harder for
the Glory of their King." He said distantly. He then shoved the sheaf of
papers at the hedgehog and dropped them before the nervous creature had the
chance to get a paw under them, the growing early Autumn wind scattering them
in the Castle courtyard.

The hedgehog darted after the reports as quickly as his short legs would
carry him. The Troop-captain stayed behind and helped him. "He's gone
mad!" The Hedgehog said dispairingly when he was sure that no one was
around to overhear them.

"That may be, Iggy." Giles Gisbourne said quietly. "But he's
still your King and I think that you would be wise to remember that fact."
Gisbourne handed the hedgehog the papers that he'd collected.

Iggy narrowed his already tiny black eyes and adjusted the wire-rimmed
spectacles that were perched on his snout. "Do you want to be ruled by a
nutcase for the rest of your life?" He asked accusingly. "I have a
wife and kids! I want my children to have a future other than being subject to
the whims of that looney for the rest of their lives!"

Giles thoughtfully stroked the fur of his chin. As a soldier he was trained
to obey the orders given to him by a lawful authority, whether it be Captain
Sullivan or King Jenner himself. Butas a son, his own father was suffering
under the rule of the very personage that he was sworn to protect.
"Listen. I can imagine how you must feel. Do you think that you and your
family are the only ones affected by Jenner's decrees?" He asked.

Iggy bowed his head and closed his eyes, a tear falling from the corner of
one eye. "No." He whimpered in his small voice.

Giles knelt and gently and carefully laid a paw on the hedgehog's spiney
shoulder. "My own father is in the same situation that you seem to be
facing. Let me talk to him and see if I can get you two together to talk things
out. Okay?"

Iggy nodded sadly and began shuffling toward the entrance to the castle.

Giles watched sympathetically as the scribe disappeared into the castle.
Ignatz wasn't a bad sort, Gisbourne knew, but Jenner's erratic behavior over
the past several weeks was causing many of the household staff to fear not only
for their jobs, but their very lives and those of their families. Most had
left, deciding to take lower paying jobs outside the castle walls. But Iggy's
wife had just given birth to another child and; other than a few secretarial or
transcriptional occupations, none of which paid as much in the private sector
as they did in the bureaucracy; he'd had little choice except to stay and
accept whatever abuse Jenner meted out to him as the designated bearer of bad
news. But Giles was also worried. If even a timid soul like Iggy was desperate
enough to voice his concerns about the state of the Royal mind, what must the
rest of Britain be thinking?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lady Euphigenia Kluck shivered in the isolation of her tiny room, not
so much from the cold early-Autumn wind that penetrated through the cracks in
the window that looked out onto the road, and beyond it the vast darkness of
the forest; for she was well insulated by her travelling clothes and feathers;
but because the news that she had been hearing during her journey was so bleak.

After selling her mother's house and possessions and distributing the money
as evenly as possible among her various siblings and relatives, she had also
sold many of her own possessions as well; keeping only a few travelling
clothes; and left for Britain.

As word of the Land Repossession Decree had spread, small pockets of violent
rebellion had flared throughout the countryside. While there had been reports
of numerous injuries, so far; thank the spirits; there seemed to have been no
fatalities.

But along with this chaos came those who were well-prepared to take
advantage of it. In the past couple of days during her travels, Kluck had been
warned by other travellers that robbers pretty much owned the roads after the
sun went down and that the only shelter; however illusory it might actually be;
was to be found at the roadside inns. When she had asked why the Sheriff's and
their Deputies weren't keeping the ways safe, one traveller had sarcastically
explained to her that the Sheriff's were either too busy trying to implement
the Repossession Decree and putting down the resultant uprisings or, if they
had a bit of time to spare from doing that, were themselves demanding a
gratuity to assign a Deputy to escort the traveller through their Shires.

Lady Kluck shook her head glumly as another wave of wind tore at the dying
leaves of the surrounding trees and rattled the panes of the window. Of Marian
and her children there had been no word even after sending inquiries to many of
the former Ladies-of-the-Court. They had either gone home or been forced to
take employment as governesses, House-matrons or other servant-occupations; at
least three going to the Continent to do so, their replys conveying a
hopelessness that conditions in Britain would probably remain intolerable until
King Jenner no longer wore the Crown.

She had found this inn just as darkness had descended on the forest. But the
innkeeper, a ferret, had been none-too-enthusiastic about renting her even this
tiny room and had made it plain that he would light no fire nor serve any food
if the King was going to take his livelihood from him. "Let his
Piggishness cut my wood an' cook my meals if he's gonna own my business!"
He had growled before stomping away from his desk.

Kluck was about to undress for bed when she heard a commotion from
downstairs. Quietly she opened her door and stepped out onto the catwalk that
gave access to the upstairs rooms.

"Please, sir! Me friends an' I'll do anythin' tha' ye wish! I'm a fair
cook an' Will an' Mr. Stabb can chop ye a night's worth o' firewood!" A
lilting Irish voice implored.

"No deal!" The innkeeper barked. "I'm not runnin' a charity
here! If'n y' can't pay, y' gets no room! N' hit th' road 'for I calls th'
Sher'ff!"

The trio of bedraggled animals gave a collective shrug and started for the
door.

Kluck took pity on them immediately. "Wait!" She said, gathering
the pleats of her cloak and starting down the stairs. "I'll pay fer their
nights stay!" She stated in her heavy Scottish brogue.

"Thank you, Ma'am." The sad-faced weasel said. "We wouldn't
want to trouble you, but we'd be much obliged."

"T'would be nay trouble." Kluck said. "A fire an' a meal'd do
me a world o' wonder aboot noo." She indicated her ample girth.

The inkeeper fumed. "Waitaminnit! Hold it! You got no call Ωtellin'
me how I'll run my place, you ol' biddy!" He yelled.

"'Ey! Tha's no way t' talk t' someone 'oos jus' tryin' t' 'elp!"
Said the young gray fox.

The innkeeper pointed a clawed finger at the fox. "Was I talkin' t'
you, boy?" He sneered.

The fox cocked his head questioningly to one side. "No, bu..." He
started.

"Then shut y'r trap!" The ferret snapped. "An' you!" He
pointed to Kluck. "Get y'r things an' get outta my inn!"

"Now YOU wait a minute!" The weasel said sternly. "There's no
call to throw this lady out of her room! She was just tryin' to do us a
favor!"

The innkeeper brought an old rusty sword from under the desk. "I'll
throw out whoever the hell I PLEASE!" He yelled, his eyes burning like
embers in a fire.

The fox's eyes widened and his jaw dropped and he quickly grabbed the arm of
the skunk and dragged her across the room and up the stairs to join Kluck.

The weasel, meanwhile, had just narrowly dodged two savage slashes by the
enraged ferret, who was starting to bring the blade down for a third time when
the weasel grabbed the ferret's wrist and, with a half-turn of his own arm,
slammed it on the edge of the desk; causing the sword to drop with a harmless
clatter to the floor and eliciting an audible crack from the ferret's forearm.

The innkeeper dropped to the floor next to his sword, howling in pain. The
weasel looked down blankly at the writhing animal at his feet; then an
expression of horror spread across his face.

"I-I didn't mean to break it." He said hoarsely. "I just
wanted to make him drop the sword."

Kluck and the skunk raced down the stairs. The skunk took the weasel, who
was now shaking with fright, by an arm and led him to a bench and sat him down,
doing her best to console him. Kluck kicked the sword aside and knelt down to
examine the ferret's arm. The ferret was now whimpering like a child, tears
flowing from his tightly closed eyes.

"Here, Laddie, give me yer paw." She told him. She carefully
examined the quickly swelling limb but determined that any treatment was beyond
her abilities. As she laid his arm gently on his chest, the door burst open and
the fox; who had dashed out the door after the fracas; returned with another
ferret and an old, snow-white badger, who seemed oddly familiar to her.

The badger, using a paw-made crutch, limped over and stiffly knelt down next
to Kluck.

"Och! Ah think he's go' a broken wrist, sir!" Kluck said, her
voice heavy with worry.

The badger carefully felt along the length of the ferret's forearm, then
ordered him to bend each finger in turn. Slowly, and obviously in great pain,
the ferret complied.

"Well," Said the badger, "The bad news is that the bone is
broken."

The other ferret, who was questioning the weasel and the skunk, excused
himself and ambled toward Kluck and the badger, bending down to pick up the
sword on the way. "Well, Doctor, if that's the bad news, then I guess that
this won't a terribly exciting night after all." The ferret said with a hint
of sorrow. He bent down and stroked the fur behind the injured ferret's ear and
shook his head. "Mom always told you that your temper would be your
undoing. She said that one day you'd meet someone bigger or stronger or faster
than you and they'd kick your tail."

The wounded ferret moaned softly.

The other ferret sighed. "OK, Doctor, what's the GOOD news?" He
asked.

The badger, using the crutch, slowly and with difficulty stood and said.
"His bone has a partial fracture just below the wrist. If I get it into a
cast tonight, it should heal by sometime after the first snow."

The other ferret nodded and pointed to the young fox. "You," He
said authoritatively, "Take Robert over to the constabulary," He
indicated the injured ferret, who was being lifted to his feet, "And
gather whatever supplies Dr. Ages," He pointed to the badger, "Needs
to make a cast."

The fox nodded and helped the wounded ferret out the door with Dr. Ages
shuffling close behind.

The other ferret then introduced himself as Tom Binns, the village
constable. "I must apologize for my older brother's outburst." He
said evenly. "He's been mad at the world ever since the King issued that
idiotic decree." He said.

The weasel, who had regained his composure somewhat, nodded wearily and
said. "Yeah, Jenner seems to have a gift for doin' that. I'm sorry about
your brother's arm, but the soldier part o' me jus' sorta took over. I won't
resist if you want to put me in jail."

Binns gave an equally weary smile. "No, you were just defending
yourself from what you thought was an immediate threat to you and your friends,
so punishment would serve no purpose. Robert's been a bit of a bully all 'is
life. I'm hoping that from now on he'll think twice before lettin' his temper
get the better of him." He said. "By the way, what brings you to this
neck of Sherwood Forest? We don't usually get many travellers this time of
year." He asked.

"We're lookin' for a fox, Sir, by th' name o' Justin." The skunk
said.

"And your name is?" Binns asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She could almost be seen blushing beneath her
dirty, matted fur. "Me name's Heather Kilcannon. And this," She waved
a paw toward the weasel, "Is Ezekiel Stabb. Th' gray fox who helped wi'
your brother is Will Scarlet." She stated.

"And you, Madam?" Binns asked Kluck.

Lady Kluck introduced herself. "I'm tryin' t' foynd an old dear friend
o' moyn. She too is a fox, wi' four bairn rabbits."

"Her name wouldn't be Marian Brisbee by any chance, would it?" The
badger said as he limped back through the door.

Suddenly, it all came together in Kluck's mind. "'Pon m' word! You're
th' one on th' 'Wanted' posters!" She exclaimed. "Please! Ah must
knoo! Are the charges agin' Marian true?" She entreated Ωhim.

Ages frowned but kept his composure. "No, Madam, I can assure you in
all honesty that those charges are pure fabrication! Mrs. Brisbee is as much a
victim of Jenner's foul plotting as King Nicodemus and her late husband
were!" He replied bitterly.

Lady Kluck let out a relieved sigh. That this Dr. Ages could be lying to her
was, she supposed, a possibility; but she very much doubted it because she did
not see what he could possibly gain by doing so.

Ages then turned his attention to Heather and Stabb. "You said that you
were looking for a fox named Justin." He said sternly, his gray-blue eyes
narrowing with suspicion. "Are you bounty hunters? Here to arrest him and
take him back to Jenner?"

Heather was dumbfounded at the accusation. "Oh no, Sir! We left th'
City because we wish t' help him fight against tha' cruel tyrant!" She
exclaimed.

Stabb nodded his agreement. "I resigned my commission in his Guard
because he was starting to use us as a secret police force. I wouldn't be at
all surprised if our names are on a few 'Wanted' posters as well." He said
quietly.

Ages relaxed a bit and said, "I believe you. But you must understand
that Jenner will use every means at his disposal to eliminate ANY threat to his
hold on the Throne; and right now, Justin and Mrs. Brisbee represent the only
hope Britain has of ending Jenner's reign."

Heather and Stabb solemnly nodded their understanding. Ages then excused
himself and went to attend to his patient, Lady Kluck following behind and
inquiring as to Mrs. Brisbee's welfare and that of her children.

A while later, after the innkeeper had been tended to and put to bed and the
travellers had taken much needed hot baths; they, constable Binns and Dr. Ages
gathered around the fireplace while Heather stirred a spicy-sweet smelling
potato-leek soup in a small cauldron that hung from an iron hook embedded in
the mantle. Kluck was sitting happily on a sofa humming to herself and
knitting. Will was amusing the constable by performing a few basic stage-magic
tricks with a gold crown that Binns had lent him. Ages and Stabb were
conversing in hushed tones in an alcove.

"I'm curious," Ages said, "Why do you wish to help Justin
dethrone the King? After all, what concern is it of yours if Jenner is treating
his subjects badly so long as you get paid?" He asked. "Young
Scarlet's and Miss Kilcannon's desire can, I suppose, be attributed to the
foolish idealism of youth. You, sir, do NOT strike me as the idealistic
type."

Stabb shrugged. He related his past and the incident at the orphanage to
Ages in a flat, unemotional tone. "I suppose that I resented being used by
Jenner as a tool to terrorize his subjects the way that he was using those poor
kids. After the hayseed," He jerked a thumb toward Will. "Kicked my
tail an' then showed concern for me, I guess I realized that I was fightin' on
the wrong side for the wrong cause. I decided that, just once in my life, I
want to fight to do some good 'cause my fightin' days; if not over; are
certainly numbered."

Ages smiled sagely. "You had an epiphany!" He said.

"Epiphany?" The weasel asked, pronouncing the word slowly.

"A flash of insight. A moment of self-revelation." Ages explained.

Stabb shrugged again and the beginnings of a smile turned up the corners of
his mouth. "Yeah I guess I did, didn't I." He said thoughtfully.

"Such insight into one's true nature is very rare!" Ages exclaimed
happily. "From it comes the ability to see resources that others can't and
the wisdom to use them in a given situation."

"I've always thought of myself as a warrior rather than a philosopher;
that is, when I was allowed to think at all." Stabb murmured. "I'm
not too sure that 'wisdom' is a word that can be applied in my case."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive." Ages said, waving a
dismissive paw. "King Nicodemus was a first-rate war-leader, but he could
also discuss many subjects; from History to Medicine; with intelligence. Tell
me, Mr. Stabb, can you read?"

"A little." Stabb sighed. "Just enough to read orders and
maps." He said by way of explanation. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I sense a thirst in you." Ages said bluntly. "A
thirst for knowledge that, for whatever reason, has either been denied to you
or that you've denied to yourself. If you're willing, I can help you to satisfy
this thirst."

"I dunno." Stabb muttered dubiously. "It's probably a bit
late to be tryin' t' teach this ol' weasel new tricks."

"Nonsense!" Ages exclaimed; pounding the flat of one paw on the
table between them, causing the others to look a them in surprise. Ages ignored
their stares and continued. "Wisdom is NOT a matter of how old you are or
how smart you think you are! Wisdom CANNOT be taught! Wisdom is not something
given only to Kings and Scholars and denied to the rest of the World! For
example; a blacksmith must be taught how to heat and pound and shape the iron
that he holds in his tongs, but what of the muscles in the arm that holds and
guides his hammer? Isn't even the tiniest baby born with those muscles?"
Ages asked.

"Yeah, I suppose so." Stabb replied, unsure of where Ages was
headed.

"But through many years of practice, the blacksmith has developed his
muscles to a strength and accuracy that allows him to shape a rod or plate of
iron into anything he desires; correct?" Ages queried.

Stabb's mind went into overdrive as he pondered Ages question. "Yes, so
if I understand you correctly, you're telling me that wisdom is already within
us from the moment we're born; but we need to practice USING it in order to get
any use FROM it!" Stabb said.

"Exactly!" Ages exclaimed. "Now, take the example
further!" He ordered.

Stabb scratched the short, rough gray-brown fur on the back of his neck in
puzzlement. Then, slowly, it dawned on him the point that the old badger was
trying to make. "And if given the proper training and practice, I can
develop my own wisdom!" Stabb exclaimed.

"In a way." Ages said. "When I was young, and believe it or
not I WAS young once!" He chortled, "My mind was like a stack of
stone and wood just waiting to be built into a grand manor-house. But every
house needs a foundation on which to rest or what will happen?"

"Why, it sinks int' th' ground!" Heather, who had been entranced
by Ages and Stabb's conversation, blurted out.

"Thank you, young lady, yes." Ages said, not minding the
interruption. "My mind needed to be built on a foundation laid by other
learned minds before me, just as their minds had been built upon foundations
laid by learned minds before them; and so on and so on back through
history."

"And my mind can be like that too?" Stabb asked, not daring to
hope at what the answer might be.

"Of course!" Ages stated. "You can build your manor-house, as
it were, as large and many-roomed as you please depending on your interests. My
main interest happened to be the field of Medicine so my manor-house probably
looks more like a hospital than anything else." He chuckled.

Stabb was elated by what he heard. "Would you be willing to help me? I
don't want to be a soldier anymore. I told the girl a few weeks ago that I'm
tired o' killin' and I still mean it." He said, his voice tight with
excitement and emotion; his eyes wide with a strange joy that he'd never felt
before.

Ages looked Stabb squarely in the eyes and said, "I can help, but it's
up to you to develop the wisdom that you say you so badly want! I warn you now
that wisdom is a much more difficult thing towield than any sword that you may
have used in your past because it doesn't penetrate any armor or draw any
blood, and you'll have to make many difficult choices alongthe way, but when
used properly it can open up worlds of thought that you probably never knew
existed."

"Don't worry, Doc," Stabb said ruefully, "I already know a
thing 'r two about difficult choices."

Heather served her soup and the group ate in contemplative silence. After a
while, constableBinns excused himself to check on his brother's condition and
make one last patrol of the village. Soon, the travellers were in their beds;
sleeping off their exhaustion. Outside, the Autumn wind still blew cold.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Mrs. Brisbee warmed the last of the tea in the cup that she held over the
tiny flame of the candle. Once again her night was bereft of badly needed
sleep. It had gotten to the point that she needed at least a two-hour nap in
the afternoons in order to function.

The children had been very helpful over the past several weeks, having
planted a garden in mid-Summer when they had first arrived after the fire that
had destroyed Dr. Ages home, they had started to harvest and, under her
supervision, can and otherwise store their food for the expected harsh Winter
ahead.

Jeremy too was helping. His burns had completely healed and, while he still
itched a bit from the regrowth of his feathers, he supervised the children
while she took her much-needed naps. But she had noticed a profound change in
the rooster since the fire. He had become more serious, perhaps even a bit more
angry and pessimistic, in his outlook on the future. If someone mentioned King
Jenner, he would frown and try to change the subject or fall silent and walk
away. He had also lost interest in being a Bard, refusing Dr. Ages offer to
find a replacement for the lute that had been destroyed in the fire. Instead,
he had bought an old over-under cross-bow and a quiver and taught himself to
use it and make the bolts with which to arm it.

Other things had changed as well, mostly for the worse. Toby's father had
been bringing them news of the various disturbances since the announcement of
the Land Repossession decree. Just that morning, he'd informed them of his
decision to resign his post and move himself and his son to Wales or the
Scottish Lands "...until that idiot either dies or comes to his
senses." Also, many of her neighbors, who would sometimes drop by to chat
or exchange local gossip or ask for or give advice, began isolating themselves
from each other, refusing to let her or others visit them. One of the few who
still welcomed her company; a mole, also a widow with a young son; shook her
head sadly and said, "Nobody trusts no one no more, Ma'am. They're afeared
tha' th' King'll have'm arrest'd an' throwed 'n 'is dungin's." When Mrs.
Brisbee had pointed out the improbability of such a thing actually happening,
The mole had reminded her that fear could turn the least believable notion into
rock-solid truth if no facts were available to contradict them.

Which brought her thoughts to Dr. Ages. He had left a few days before;
ostensibly to visit several friends and, if possible, pick up information on
Justin. When she had made known her concern about the condition of his leg,
he'd told her that her concern; while not unreasonable and, in fact, welcome;
was less of a priority than the aquisition of accurate information. She had
also expressed her fear that he might be taken prisoner by those still loyal to
Jenner.

"That would, no doubt, be a major setback to our cause." He had
sighed. "But I'm old. I have no fear of what Jenner MIGHT do to me. My
heart is resolved to stop what he's doing RIGHT NOW to Britain." He'd
stated quite forcefully.

A thin whisp of steam rose from the tea in the cup in her hand. She swirled
it around the cup and downed the last of it, the slightly bitter warm liquid
coating the back of her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure standing in the shadows
of the doorway at the corner of the room. It was Timothy, standing in his
nightgown and impassively watching her.

"Hello." She said in a half-whisper. "What're you doing
up?"

"I couldn't sleep." He said. "Had 'nother dream."

Mrs. Brisbee held out her arms and motioned him to come to her. Timothy
walked tiredly to her and let her lift him onto her lap. "Was it good or
bad?" She asked patiently. Timothy had been having both dreams and
nightmares with increasing frequency. He had been waking up so often,
screaming or crying in fear, that Brisbee had decided to move him into Justin's
bed until the other fox returned.

"I dunno. Good, I think." The young rabbit said without emotion.
"Dr. Ages found those travellers that I been dreaming about." He
paused for a few moments as if trying to think about something. "But I
still can't tell who they are." He added, obvious disappointment in his
voice.

"It's alright." She said soothingly. "We'll find out soon
enough, I suppose."

She then extinguished the candle and carried Timothy to their bedroom and
tucked him into bed. She then slipped out of her robe, and slid into her own
and lay awake wondering. Timothy had been dreaming of these so-called
"travellers" for the past few weeks now. But who were they? What
role, if any, would they play in helping Justin to bring about Jenner's
downfall? Were his dreams of them in any way connected to the nightmares that
he was also suffering from? Timothy described, in great detail, a horrible
battle between a large group of animals; led by Justin, herself, Dr. Ages,
Jeremy and these mysterious travellers; and a legion of beings that Timothy
would only describe as "armored demons" led by an evil half-fox,
half-lion demon-creature. That the "demon-creature" probably represented
Jenner Mrs. Brisbee did not doubt for a moment, although she was mystified at
the significance that Timothy always placed on its vulpine attributes. And she
also did not doubt that, one day soon, a bloody battle WOULD take place and
that, in the end, only Justin or Jenner would emerge from it alive and the
animals of Britain would live in either a new era of freedom or an eternity of
darkness and slavery.

She shuddered quietly inside at the thought.

After a while, she slipped away to sleep, her exhausted mind letting her rest.