That night Dylan slept little, but lay awake thinking about souls, about Tristan and all the other ferrymen that must exist, about where she was going. She supposed her body was getting accustomed to not needing to sleep, but in truth there were so many thoughts running wild in her head that sleep would have evaded her anyway.
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She sighed, shifting on the worn and lumpy armchair she was curled up in.
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"You're awake." Tristan's voice was low in the semi-dark, coming just from her left.
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"Yeah," Dylan murmured. "Too much stuff in my head."
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第十一章
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