"Yeah, it's something else, isn't it?" She walked toward the trunk and left the father's blanket folded neatly on a bench-high root. Once that was done she moved to toss another chunk of firewood on the log and peered up into the branches. Rowan and Cross were both gone now as well, their hammocks swinging empty. "We sleep up there," she pointed to the various bright swaths of cloth amidst the leaves. "To keep well out of reach of the Laughers."