Hap kept a steadying hand on the large shoulder of its patient. When the great being has settled, Hap moved slightly and allowed him to lay back once more. Its gaze held amusement but it did not laugh at the joke. 

The warmth of that small hand remained a moment longer, then Hap stood and padded silently out of the room. Krell had, during the adjustments, the coughing, trusted her master to let her know of danger. Therefore, as the troll lay back once again, she merely snuffled her muzzle in amongst her pups then lay her head back to the floor once again and sighed in relaxation. 

For the next while, there was no sound but for the random knock or movement in the adjoining kitchen. The quiet of outside, the lack of wind's moaning during the lull of weather, the lack of fire's crackle for the light came from a star kept well within the world's crust upon which they stood, even the pups had ceased their moaning and quiet peeps. There was nothing but for the troll's great bellows of lungs as he breathed. The deepness of the quiet was particular to the furthest reaches, yet even the others had birds or bear, jackals or mice. There were villages at the points of the other Lighthouses. Instead, in the Western Reach, all the world had stopped. The beasts were fed and warm, the keeper had its work complete but for some cooking which had no need of stirring, the pause was long lasting and complete. 

Then the first voice broke the silence. It was a tonguing, low and questioning. It died off and Krell lifted her head to listen. Beside her, a pup chirruped. Then the voice came again, long and low, tempting the others. With uncertainty, another met the first, high pitched and tremulous. After the second, another two and then the full of them broke into complete song – wild and joyful. They broke the silence, rang out into the quiet with their chorus. 

Krell, without moving from her place, tilted her head back and suddenly joined in. Her call was long, sweet, and with a high tip at the end, as if she were yodelling, which trilled back down. 

As the dogs sang, Hap began to hum, joining in strangely, with a soft traditional song, wordless and as high as Krell's apex. And as the dogs fell away, Hap continued, soft and to itself, stepping back into the main room with leather ropes to be braided and a platter of some rice like substance covered in a light gravy. It would be heavier and yet not so heavy as it was bird and not the more oily bear which was also hung in the lean-to in preparation of being cooked at a later date. 

Hap trailed long fingers down Krell's muzzle to her domed skull and then scratching at her ears, before it knelt effortlessly beside Wilhelm's head. It looked him over for a time, before with a frown and not a moment's hesitation, it lifted his head and resettled itself underneath him. This time, as it was nothing so simple as a bowl, the keeper did not offer to allow him to feed himself. Rather, it used a bone mixing spoon and lifted enough to cover Wilhelm's tongue with a touch of the gravy to both give him the greater nutrients as well as to make the rice not get caught in his throat. 

Krell lifted her nose and lay her muzzle back against the troll's side, her nostrils so intent on the smell of food that she forgot altogether that the harmed one might not like her so close. The keeper hissed at her and flapped an elbow at which she lay her head back down and sighed, defeated. Then the keeper turned large eyes down at the pale face on its lap. 

“A little at a time. But we will feed you,” it said in a tone of voice brooking no argument.