I lay watching the bright stars, and listening to the roar of the wind in the pines.

At intervals it lulled to a whisper, and then swelled to a roar, and then died away.

Far off in the forest a coyote barked once.

Time and time again, as I was gradually sinking into slumber, the sudden roar of the wind startled me.

I imagined it was the crash of rolling, weathered stone, and I saw again that huge outspread flying lion above me.
I awoke sometime later to find Moze had sought the warmth of my side, and he lay so near my arm that I reached out and covered him with an end of the blanket I used to break the wind.