Spryte was woken the following morning by Child gently prodding him in the ribs with his shoe.

“Whuzza?” the young man slurred.

“Up and at ‘em, Spryte.”

Even though Spryte’s vision was blurred by grogginess, he could still quite easily tell that it was kind of dark. The sky was light grey with touches of soft pink, and the sun was a deep orange ball just poking over the edge of the farthest horizon. Spryte sat up on his elbows. “What time is it?”

“Just after 4:30, I th. . .