Laying there on the cold stone, listening to her laughter really was making him tired. This time, his jaws parted in a real yawn. The atmosphere was just so quiet and serene, such a welcome change from the terrifying run-ins with heathens. He really had it up to here with all of them. Idly, Kiche wondered why Pangur had not done anything about them, killed them with a plague, something. At the very least, they deserved <i>some</i> sort of punishment. His eye lids, weighted with fatigue, began to flicker shut as a comatose smile softly creased his face.
Without warning though, Aisling jumped away, skittering back and forth on the rocks in some sort of <span class='word'>jamboree</span>. She asked for him to sing again, but the only response he could manage was a lazy groan. "<b>Mnnnn.</b>" But what Aisling wanted, Aisling got. He didn't want to make her sad, did he? With some effort, he began the song at the beginning again, his voice hushed, "<b>Plowing these fields in the hot summer sun, over by the gate lordy here she comes. </b>"
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