It was a dark and stormy night.

Actually, it wasn't so much stormy as very, very cold and windy with
occasional bursts of the kind of snow that's more like little ice
pellets that sting the face and generally make life miserable if you
happen to be outside in it for more than a few minutes.

"Miserable" summed up the status of Nicolas de Brabant, former knight
and current vampire, who had been out in the cold and snow for over
six hours. Other words that applied were "angry" and "scared." "Angry"
because he had had yet another futile argument with his sire, Lucien
Lacroix, resulting in his stomping out of the perfectly adequate
shelter of the house they shared and taking off into the night in a
raging snit, and "scared" because it was almost dawn and he was
acutely aware that he needed shelter from the certain death offered by
the watery, wan, winter sun, and there was nothing but forest beneath
him.

Spending the day buried in snow under a fallen tree definitely lacked
appeal. Not only was it cold and wet, it was embarrassing and very
undignified. However, it was looking increasingly like that was going
to be his accommodations for the approaching day.

Nick halted in mid-air and hovered indecisively, scanning the
surrounding wilderness for something, anything, that would provide
shelter. At this point he didn't care if it was a rotting woodsman's
hut or a hole in the ground. As long as he didn't have to bury himself
in the snow, he would take it.

Finally, just as the eastern horizon began to show a sliver of pink-
tinged gray, Nick's search paid off. He saw a darker splotch on a
steep, rocky hillside---a cave. Perfect! He zoomed towards it, gaining
refuge even as the sun peeked over the rim of the world.

Nick landed at the cave entrance and ran inside. The cave went back
about twenty feet, then dipped downward and sharply to the left,
providing an almost ideal safe haven for the desperate vampire. No
sunlight would reach the deepest recesses of the rocky refuge. He
half-flew, half-slithered down the slope, landed on the sandy floor
below. He sat down and leaned against the rock wall with a sigh. Safe!

"Excuse me," a deep voice rumbled from out of nowhere. "This cave is
occupied. Go find your own."

Nick straightened in shock, staring into the blackness further down
the tunnel. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a massive
shape---large body, long neck, wings, angular, toothy head----

A dragon. It could only be a dragon.

He shot to his feet and jumped into the air, only to be stopped by the
sudden appearance of a brilliant shaft of light. The sun was up, and
the cave faced east. He thumped back onto the cave floor and turned to
stare apprehensively the dragon, his back to the cave wall.

Nick became acutely aware that he was between the devil and the deep
blue sea, between Scylla and Charybdis, between a rock and a hard
place---choose your favorite metaphor, dear reader---he was between a
dragon and the sun.

In short, he was doomed.

The dragon snaked his long neck towards Nick and peered at the
intruder to his lair. His nostrils flared as he inhaled with a
massive, nasal passage-rattling sniff, then made a disgusted noise.
"Oh, relax," he said. "You're one of those blood-drinkers, aren't you?
Thought I recognized the smell." The dragon sighed. "Just my luck," he
grumbled to himself. "Dinner drops in and it turns out to be inedible.
I told you to relax," the dragon repeated irritably, "your sort tastes
awful. I'm not going to eat you." He sounded like he regretted that
quite a lot.

Nick slowly sat down again, as far away from the dragon as he could
get. 'Um, thanks," he said cautiously.

The dragon ignored him, choosing instead to rearrange himself more
comfortably in his sandy bed. There was an uncomfortable silence.

Nick tried to think of something to say. Perhaps he should apologize
for intruding? Not that he could do anything about that, now that the
sun was up, and besides, the dragon seemed resigned to his presence.
In the end he voiced the thought that was uppermost in his mind. "I
didn't know dragons could talk." Indeed, the dragon spoke perfect,
Parisian-accented French.

That got a response. The dragon swung his head around and stared at
Nick. "Typical. Do you humans ever stop to even find out about us? Of
course not. It's always sword first, ask questions later." The dragon
snorted. "You're not one of those knights, are you? I had a run-in
with one fifty years ago or so. Highly unpleasant. He kept shouting
about his king and Saint George and poking me with his lance. I ate
him, of course." The dragon paused. "He wasn't very good."

Nick hurriedly said, "No, I'm not a knight. At least not now. I used
to be," he admitted, "but becoming a vampire puts a crimp in the whole
job. Being chivalrous is hard if you can only do it at night and you
end up eating the people you're supposed to protect."

"Inconvenient," the dragon agreed. "I imagine that protecting tempting
young virgins can be a strain, although to my mind virgins are highly
overrated." At Nick's lifted eyebrow, the dragon elaborated. "There
was a time when the local people would send them to me as gifts.
They're tasteless---not enough life experience, I think. Give me a
nice, meaty middle-aged housewife any day." The dragon's long, red
tongue flickered out to lick his muzzle, savoring the memory of a past
meal.

"Ah, yes. I suppose so," Nick agreed, although he himself had guiltily
fond memories of his Virgins in the Basement days.

The dragon sighed again. "So, vampire, what's your name? I suppose if
I have to share my cave with you for the day, we should at least
introduce ourselves. I'm called Basher."

"Nicolas de Brabant." Nick examined his host. He had never seen a
dragon before, although of course he had heard tales of them, mostly
about how evil and dangerous they were and how every knight's duty was
to slay them on sight. Basher, though, didn't seem all that evil and
dangerous, just rather grumpy. He was about the size of a large horse,
deep greeny-brown in color, with six-inch fangs and impressive claws.
He was currently comfortably ensconced in a sandy, bowl-shaped
depression in the cave, his tail curled around his tucked-up legs, and
his wings folded neatly against his back. To Nick's surprise the
dragon had thick, leathery-looking skin, not scales. "I thought
dragons had scales."

Basher snorted. "Yet another misconception. Of course dragons don't
have scales. We're not fish! I'm as hot-blooded as you are---or were,"
he amended. "Don't believe everything you've been told. I'm sure
you've found out that vampires aren't like they're portrayed in all
the stories."

"Good point," Nick admitted. "So, Basher, do you live here alone?" He
looked over his shoulder as if another dragon might make its
appearance in the cave entrance.

Basher sighed, blowing a small cloud of sand particles off the floor.
"Nowadays, yes," he said. "I'm afraid there aren't so many of us any
more. In the old days there would be a whole hillside of dragons, but
those damned knights---well, they took their toll. So I'm here by
myself for now."

"I'm sorry," Nick said sincerely. "When were the old days?" He was
accustomed by now to "the old days" meaning something quite different
to vampires than to humans. Perhaps dragons were the same way.

"Let me think." Basher scratched his head with one massive claw. "I
remember I had just gained full growth when that big mountain in Italy
spouted fire. What was it called? Oh, yes---Vesuvio. Nasty business,
that. I got out of there by the skin of my teeth. Lost my first cave
and not a few friends." He paused reflectively. "Good hunting
afterwards, though---there were people all over out in the open. How
long ago was that? I don't reckon in human terms."

"Over a thousand years," Nick said faintly. Basher not only was as old
as his master, he came from the same place. It was, he reflected, a
small world after all.

"That many? Well, when I was a youngster there were dragons all over.
Nowadays? When's the last time you saw one of us?"

"Never. I thought dragons were myths," Nick said honestly.

Basher shook his massive head. "We will be soon at the rate we're
going," he grumbled. He shifted his bulk to find a more comfortable
position, then grunted in pain.

"Are you injured?" Nick inquired.

Basher scowled. "It's nothing. I wrenched my wing last week in a bad
landing---hit an unexpected updraft. Just waiting for it to heal---
it's nothing." He eased his left wing out, flexed it a bit, then
resettled it along his back with a grimace. Nick detected the distinct
odor of some kind of liniment.

"Bad luck. Can you fly on it?"

Basher hesitated, clearly unwilling to admit to weakness. "Well...no.
Not just yet. I mean, I could if I wanted to, but I thought I'd take a
bit of a break and rest it. Soon it'll be as good as new."

"That's all right, then," Nick said commiseratingly. He'd been laid up
in his mortal days a few times and knew how annoying and frustrating
it could be.

"You wouldn't have killed anyone nearby, would you?" Basher asked
hopefully. "It's been two weeks since I've had a decent meal---haven't
been able to hunt properly with this wing, you see."

"Sorry, no," Nick said. "I left home in a hurry, and didn't stop along
the way. I'm rather hungry myself, actually." His eyes lingered on
Basher's long, sinuous neck. He couldn't help wondering what dragon's
blood would taste like. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I..."

"Don't even think about it, vampire," Basher snapped, his eyes
flaring. "Or I might forget how unappetizing you are."

Nick hastily turned his eyes away. "Of course not. It was just a
passing thought." He changed the subject. "It's quite warm in here,
isn't it? How's that possible in the middle of winter?"

Basher preened. "I've got a hot spring," he said proudly. He shifted
sideways so Nick could see past his bulk. Twenty feet behind him
glimmered a small dark pool, wisps of steam rising from its surface.
"That's why the ground is warm---the lifeblood of the earth is close
to the surface here, and heats the rocks and the water. It was like
that in my first cave, too. I'm partial to hot pools."

"Hot water..." Nick hadn't had a bath in a week---the house he had
left so abruptly hadn't come equipped with a bathing tub and he had
been washing up out of a basin.

"Be my guest," Basher said grandly, waving a claw at the pool. "Your
clothes look damp. Take them off and let them dry, and have a good
soak. That always makes me feel like a new dragon."

No further urging was needed. Nick quickly stripped down, draped his
soggy raiment over some convenient stalagmites, and slid into the
steaming water. "Ahhhhhhh," he sighed, marveling at his good fortune.
A hot water bath and (somewhat unusual) company instead of a cold,
sodden day buried in a snow bank---what luxury! Even without a meal he
found himself drifting into a contented stupor as he lolled in the
pool.

A half hour passed in congenial silence, the vampire and the dragon
both concerned more with their own creature comforts than with
conversation.

"Basher, dear! Where are you?"

Nick was jarred back to the awareness by the sound of a cheerful
female voice.

Basher raised his head and called, "Down here by the pool."

There was the sound of flint on steel, and then a wavering light
danced on the cave wall as an oil lamp was lit.

"Who...?" Nick was suddenly aware of the fact that he was unclothed
and a female was (almost) present. He submerged himself in the dark
water so only his head was above water, all his vampiric senses
extended towards the new arrival.

A gray-cloaked figure appeared at the top of the slope. The figure
took off its cloak to reveal a slender young woman in a thick woolen
dress and sturdy boots. Her long dark hair hung over her shoulder in a
heavy plait. "One of these days I'm going to get you to build me some
steps, or at least install a ladder," she complained. She leaned down,
put the oil lamp in a convenient niche, then turned and carefully
climbed down the incline, slithering the last couple of feet. Turning,
she dusted her hands and approached the dragon. "How's the wing feel
today?"

Unable to control himself, Nick growled softly, his eyes beginning to
glow. His fangs dropped. The scent of the young woman's hot blood
filled his senses, and all he could think about was how hungry he was.
Modesty forgotten, he started to rise out of the pool.

Basher whipped around with a speed unexpected for a creature of his
bulk and whapped Nick across the chest with an extended wing, knocking
him to the back of the pool. "None of that, vampire!" he hissed,
rearing back on his haunches, extending his claws, lowering his head
and baring his own not inconsiderable fangs menacingly.

"Oooof!" Nick grunted. He fell backward into the water and sank to the
bottom, stunned. He stayed down there while he regained his senses,
staring up through the rippling water at the very large, angry dragon,
who in turn was glaring down at him.

After a minute he resurfaced cautiously at the far end of the pool.
"Sorry." He coughed some water out of his lungs.

"You'll be more than sorry if you try that again!" Basher swiveled his
head around and said over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Oriel, I'll
protect you."

The young woman, who had crouched for safety behind a boulder, stood
up and said, "You've got a vampire back there??"

"Yes, he flew in at dawn. He *seemed* like a decent enough fellow so I
let him stay. If you want, I'll throw him out and we can watch him
burn."

Oriel craned her head to look around Basher at Nick, once again
modestly submerged to the neck. "You know how I feel about killing
things, Basher. Let him stay." She addressed Nick. "You will behave,
won't you? I think Basher means what he says, and he can be very
forceful."

Nick grabbed his damp cloak and wrapped it around himself, then
climbed cautiously out of the pool, keeping an eye on the dragon. "I
promise." He sketched a bow. "My apologies, Mistress Oriel. I was
carried away by your beauty and forgot myself."

"Oh, my." Oriel was flustered, apparently unused to such courtly
flattery.

"Yes, yes," Basher said testily. "He was a knight before he was
turned, so no doubt he has some manners when he's not sucking you dry.
Don't let it go to your head, girl. Did you bring the stuff?"

Oriel smiled shyly at Nick, then turned her attention to the dragon.
"Of course, that's why I'm here." She produced a clay pot from a pouch
slung on her belt. "I made a new batch yesterday. Extend your wing,
please."

Basher complied, stretching out his injured wing with a small grunt,
all the while keeping one eye on Nick. Oriel knelt down and gently
probed a spot near the base of the wing. "Good, the swelling is down,
and it's not as hot as it was the last time I visited." She dipped her
hand into the clay pot and proceeded to smear the area liberally with
a sharp-smelling salve. It was redolent of herbs, pine, and wine, and
reminded Nick of the concoctions Father Andre, his family's resident
priest, teacher, and physician, had cooked up in his work room so long
ago.

Oriel massaged the salve into the dragon's wing, while Basher closed
his eyes and relaxed under her ministrations. His head drooped until
it was resting on his front claws. Nick moved cautiously to retrieve
the rest of his clothing, and the movement caused Basher to open one
large golden eye and give Nick a warning glare. Nick retreated to the
far side of the pool, and the eye closed. Basher sighed blissfully,
wriggled into a more comfortable position and promptly fell asleep.

Oriel worked on the great beast's wing for a good ten minutes while
Basher's deep snores rattled the cave's stalactites. Nick, by now
fully clothed, sat down a respectful distance from the pair and
watched. She was a skillful healer, her hands kneading and soothing at
the same time. She hummed quietly while she worked.

Finally she sat back on her heels and gently poked the dragon in the
chest. "Some protector you are, falling asleep on me. You snore, you
know."

Basher said without opening his eyes, "I was not sleeping. I was
practicing my deep breathing."

"Of course you were." Oriel put the clay pot back into her pouch and
stood up. "I think you'll be able to fly in a day or two."

Basher grumbled, "About time, too. I'm famished. Why can't you bring
me a cow or goat or something from the village?"

Nick's stomach rumbled at the thought of a nice, big, juicy cow. He
looked hopefully at Oriel.

"How about I make you a nice big pot of vegetable stew instead? I can
bring things from home and make it here."

In chorus, Nick and Basher said, "Euwww."

Oriel laughed. "I guess that settles that. I'm afraid you'll have to
wait until you can go hunting yourself, Basher. I'm sorry."

Tentatively, Nick offered, "I can go hunting tonight, Basher. Let me
see if I can find something in the forest---not someONE, someTHING,"
he hurriedly added for Oriel's benefit, "and bring it back to your
cave. I'll take the blood, and you can have the meat. It's the least I
can do to repay you for your hospitality."

"That is very dragonly of you, vampire," Basher said grudgingly.
"Thank you. At least I'll be able to celebrate the Deep Night with a
meal, if nothing else."

"Deep Night? What's that?" Nick asked.

"The Winter solstice," Oriel explained. "Dragons call it the Deep
Night, the longest night of the year. Basher tells me that they used
to have enormous feasts, sing all the old songs, and make merry for
three days and nights. But you need more than one dragon to do it
properly."

"I see. Rather like Christmas,' Nick said wistfully, thinking back on
his family's feasting. "There's nothing quite like a midwinter feast
to brighten the season. Do you celebrate the solstice?" he asked
Oriel. "I thought the Old Ways were, um, discouraged." Discouraged by
killing the women who practiced those arts, he thought to himself. He
had seen his share of wise women killed in rather nasty ways.

Oriel chuckled. "We are far from the bishops here, and our priest is a
son of the village. He knew my mother, who taught me all I know, and
he knows me. In fact, I treated him for a nasty boil just yesterday.
So we have an understanding. I help the villagers and their animals
stay healthy, and he sees to our souls. Sometimes we work together."
She paused. "I think he also appreciates the fact that I was able to
persuade Basher here not to hunt in our valley." She smiled at the
dragon. "In fact, Basher actually protects us now---we haven't had any
wolves attack our flocks for a year, and when a band of robbers were
terrorizing the forest dwellers, Basher did a little terrorizing back
and drove them away." She patted his massive snout. "He's really quite
a nice dragon, although he doesn't like people to know that."

Basher growled, "I am not nice. I am---practical."

"Whatever you say, dear Basher." She looked at Nick and the dragon. "I
have an idea. Why don't I bring my dinner here tonight, and we can all
celebrate our midwinter feast together? It won't be quite like your
magnificent Deep Night celebration of course, or even your mortal
Christmas, Sir Vampire---what is your name? Nicolas?---but it is the
companionship that makes the feast, is it not?"

Nick admitted, "I think I would enjoy that very much. How about you,
Basher?"

The dragon grumbled, "I suppose so," but the grumbling tone was half-
hearted at best. "It won't be like it used to be, but...it will do."

"That's settled, then." Oriel stood up and gathered her belongings.
"Until tonight, then. Sleep well, Sir Nicolas. And Basher, do your
stretching exercises this afternoon." She nimbly climbed the slope,
lifted a hand in farewell and, blowing out the oil lamp, disappeared
into the blinding sunlight above.

Nick yawned. "If you don't mind, I'll go to bed now." He made a hollow
in the warm sand near the pool, rolled his cloak into a pillow, and
was soon fast asleep.

He woke just as the sun was setting to the sound of Oriel and Basher
talking near the front of the cave. He splashed some of the steaming
pool water on his face (resolving to have such a wondrous convenience
in some future dwelling of his own) and then went to greet his hosts.

"Ah, you're awake!" Oriel greeted him. She was hanging a small iron
pot over a crackling fire. "I thought some mulled wine would go well
with our dinners. Basher has provided some of his private stock," she
nodded at a small cask that was nearby. "Are you off on your hunt
now?"

Nick nodded. "I should be back in an hour or so," he promised, edging
past the dragon to stand at the mouth of the cave. It was a beautiful
night. The sky was still dark blue towards the west, but the stars
were shining brightly above, and the snow glowed brightly in their
light.

"Good hunting," Basher said. "A fat buck would be nice. There's a herd
off to the north, on the other side of the river."

"I'll do my best," Nick promised, and took off into the night.

Sure enough, after only a half hour of searching, Nick found a small
herd of deer foraging in a snowy clearing near the river. He hovered
silently over them, chose a good-sized buck, and dropped out of the
sky to bring it down while the rest of the deer fled through the
forest. He fed quickly, ravenously, until there was no more blood in
the beast. It wasn't the same as human, but after his exertions of the
previous day, it was more than satisfying.

Sated, he hefted the buck onto his shoulders and took once again to
the sky. In ten minutes he was once again at the dragon's lair. The
scent of hot, mulled wine filled the air, and the fire in the cave
entrance was a welcoming warmth. Nick landed and presented the buck to
Basher. "I hope this will do, Basher."

The dragon snuffled the buck, his long red tongue flickering in and
out of his toothy snout. "Ahh, yes. This will do nicely." One large
golden eye rolled in Nick's direction. "Well hunted, Nicolas. You've
drunk your fill, I presume? I don't want to have to worry about
Oriel." To drive his point home, the dragon flexed his wing
meaningfully.

"Not to worry, the buck was more than enough," Nick hastened to
reassure the dragon. "Oriel is completely safe, truly."

"That's good, then." Basher settled down with the buck grasped in his
claws, and started tearing choice gobbets of meat from it with gusto.

Nick went to sit with Oriel by the fire just inside the cave's mouth.
She was tending two pots now, one with the mulled wine and one with a
savory stew that, even to Nick's vampiric nose, smelled wonderful,
full of unknown herbs and spices adding flavor.

Oriel favored him with a bright smile and said, "Will you have some
wine? I'm not really sure what vampires drink, besides blood, that is.
You're the first one I've met."

"Some wine would be welcome, thank you," Nick said, and accepted the
large pewter cup she handed him. He sipped the warm, fragrant brew and
watched Basher make short work of the buck. He wasn't the neatest of
diners, Nick thought, but who was he to criticize a fellow predator?

Oriel dished herself some stew and filled her own wine cup. "Well,
this is the most unusual Christmas feast I've attended," she said. "A
dragon, a vampire, and a mortal---not the most likely of companions,
are we?"

Nick had to agree with that. "Of course, a mortal and a dragon are
unlikely friends, too. How did you two meet?"

"Oh, I've known him a long time. We met in the forest while I was
collecting herbs for my mother---he was going to have me for dinner
but I managed to persuade him not to. And then Mother treated him when
he needed some help, and I carried on after she died. He's been
protecting our valley for thirty years, now, and I hope he is still
here when my daughter takes over from me."

Nick laughed. "I would like to have seen you persuade him not to eat
you. That must have been quite a conversation, I think."

Oriel waved a hand. "He's really very nice, once you get past his
gruffness and bluster. Also, I offered to treat a cut I saw while he
was waving around his claws. When he saw I could be useful, he decided
I was worth more alive to him."

Basher sat back on his haunches and burped. "I told you, I'm not nice,
I'm practical. Every dragon should have the services of a healer
available." He picked up one of the casks of wine and took a good,
long drink. "Ahhhh, that's more like it," he sighed in contentment.
"Not such a bad Deep Night, after all."

"Tell us about the Deep Nights of the past, Basher," Oriel said. "What
did you do to celebrate?"

The dragon moved to the other side of the fire, a noticeable bulge in
his belly. He took another swallow of wine from the cask. "They were
magnificent. In my youth, there would be fifty dragons or even more,
all gathered together. There would be feasting, games, story-telling,
more feasting, and wine." Basher looked sadly at the now-empty cask,
and left to return shortly with a full one. He continued, "The best
thing you humans ever came up with is wine. Dragonkind thanks you." He
opened the cask with a massive claw and drank. "Where was I? Oh, yes,
Deep Night. The celebration should last three days and nights, and on
the last night, which is the longest night of the year, and after all
the feasting and games were done, we would sing up the sun."

"Sing up the sun? What does that mean?" Oriel asked.

Basher's expression became far away. "It is the duty of dragonkind to
bring back the sun to the world, and we do it by singing up the sun on
the longest night of the year. Our song brings it back so that spring
comes in its proper time." The dragon looked at Oriel and Nick. "Of
course the sun will come back all by itself, but dragons have done
this since time out of mind, since before there were cities of men.
And even today, when there are fewer dragons than ever before, we
still do it, even if the song is by but a single singer."

And then the dragon started a sort of humming, the noise reverberating
in his chest. The tune was wild and exotic; he somehow sounded like
pipes and flutes and drums, all combined in an ancient melody. Basher
lifted his snout to the starlit night and sang to the sky, a song of
joy and longing. Sometimes it seemed to be pure singing, sometimes
there were words in a language Nick had never heard before. The music
echoed off the cave walls and rang out over the snowy fields and
woods.

Nick sipped his wine and listened, enthralled. What would a it sound
like if a whole hillside of dragons sang that song together? Nick
wished he could someday witness such a marvelous concert. He could
believe how such a glorious sound could conquer winter and darkness.

Basher sang on, the song subtly changing in tenor. Joy, longing,
exultation, sadness, despair---the feelings wove themselves together
and broke apart, one leading into another and then mixing together in
a complex melody. And then, after a long, wavering note---silence. The
song was over.

A sliver of sun peered over the eastern horizon.

Nick and Oriel stirred from their place by the crumbling embers of the
fire. Basher had sung up the sun, and Deep Night was over.

"Oh, my," Oriel breathed.

"I have to go," Nick said, nodding towards the interior of the cave.

"Of course. And so must I." She numbly started gathering the things
she had brought the night before.

Basher stared unmoving at the lightening sky. "I will take you back to
the village, Oriel, you are far too tired to walk that distance.
Nicolas, you are welcome to stay the day again." He swung around his
great head. "Thank you both for being here this Deep Night. It is not
the same as having other dragons present, but having companions here
meant much to me."

Oriel went to the dragon and embraced him. "And we are honored to have
been here, dear Basher."

Nick was retreating into the cave as the sun made its presence felt.
He called from the shadows, "I am honored indeed, Sir Dragon. Thank
you." He waved to Oriel. "And may you have a happy Christmas, Mistress
Oriel. Good day to you."

Nick's last sight before he had to hide from the sun was of the young
woman leaning on the dragon's shoulder, her arm around his long,
sinuous neck, her other hand caressing his fearsome snout while she
whispered endearments to the ancient beast.

As he made his bed beside the hot spring, Nick could still hear the
dragon's song in his perfect memory, and for a moment, he believed
that dragons did indeed bring the sun back to the world.

"Happy Deep Night, Basher," he said to the empty cave, and fell into
the deep well of sleep.