The cedar and balsam shelter dripped with morning dew, the place where fire had been was black and dead, and ruffling his feathers the warbler continued his song in triumph.
Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard him.

She lay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, and the birdsong seemed to come to her from a great distance away.

She smiled, and her lips trembled, as if even in sleep she--was about to answer it.

And then the song drifted away until she could no longer hear it, and she sank back into an oblivion of darkness in which she seemed lost for a long time, and out of which some invisible force was struggling to drag her.
There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and she opened her eyes, awake.

Her head was no longer in the crook of Jolly Roger's arm.