‘We are—still as mice.’
‘This is where the winds sleep when they’re not blowing. It’s their resting-place.’
He looked about him, drawing a deep breath.
‘Look out; you’ll wake them if you breathe like that,’ whispered the child.
‘Are they asleep now?’
‘Of course. Can’t you see?’
‘Not much—yet!’
‘Move like a cat, and speak in whispers. We may see them when they wake.’
‘How soon?’
‘Dawn. The wind always wakes with the sun. It’s getting closer now.’